


cacophony

by itsnotlove



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Brotps, Crack, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, M/M, People die in some? it's in the summary of the fic, Raijin Days, Rough Sex, Some are, Violent Sex, eight way, hand holding, i guess, in those, minor gore, some are attempts at horror, this really is just a mix bag, uhh, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 57
Words: 43,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotlove/pseuds/itsnotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my tumblr drabbles. Some are requests, some are, uh... some can't be blamed on others. A lot of NSFW, so please keep that in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shizuo/Izaya (sfw) (1)

The first time it had happened was an accident. Shizuo had reached out as Izaya danced around in front of him, fingers almost missing their target before the informant stumbled slightly on a crack in the pavement. He corrected himself quickly, darting out of the way, but not before Shizuo’s fingers made contact with the top of his head.

Izaya braced himself, waiting to be slammed down into the concrete, but the touch had been surprisingly light. It only lasted for a few moments, Shizuo’s fingers briefly tangling in his dark hair, before he skipped back out of the way. 

The taunting stopped as Izaya realised what had happened, and his eyes widened in confusion. He looked at Shizuo as though he’d never really seen him before, forcing the blond to stop in his tracks with his arm still outstretched. 

Shizuo could still feel the silky hair on his fingertips, their softness somehow being translated to him through the thick callouses on his finger tips. His lips parted slightly, as if he were going to ask Izaya what the fuck he thought he was doing having hair that nice to touch, but never got the chance to speak. 

The informant, apparently realising the situation, turned on his heel and sprinted away faster than Shizuo had ever seen him run before. Now alone, Shizuo leaned against the closest wall and stared at his hand with a small smile.

His hand was magic.

The city was flea-free for the following three weeks, something that couldn’t help but Shizuo notice. He was happier as well, no longer scowling with anticipation or walking with his shoulders hunched. It was as if he were a new man.

When Izaya finally did come crawling back to Ikebukuro, Shizuo couldn’t help but grin. With his magical hand, he waved at the informant with a knowing look on his face, forcing Izaya’s to distort into something relatively close to disgust.

The chase was on once again, only Izaya’s insults were aimed more at Shizuo’s body parts. The blond laughed loudly at each insult, looking like a maniac as he threw pieces of public property in front of Izaya rather than at him. 

It was a new tactic, one designed to slow him down so he could test his powers again rather than injure, and it seemed to work. Izaya tripped on a large sign as he didn’t have enough time to lift his feet properly, and skidded on his knees.

Shizuo was on him in under a second, looming above him with a cruel smile as his magical hand reached out. Izaya made a disgusted noise as he scrambled to his feet, but found he couldn’t move away now that Shizuo’s hand was petting his head. 

It wasn’t that Shizuo was applying too much physical pressure, but that Izaya seemed to have frozen in place. He’d thought about this situation long and hard before returning to Ikebukuro, wondering if Shizuo had lost his strength (which he obviously hadn’t) or could only sense him as a threat when he was moving. 

No matter what excuse he came up with, he couldn’t figure out just why it was that Shizuo was petting him like this, or why he was letting him. 

After far too much time had passed, Izaya came back to his senses and slapped Shizuo’s hand away. Or rather, his hand felt as though it had almost broken when it connected with Shizuo, and Shizuo moved it away shortly after. 

With another scowl, Izaya took off running, stumbling slightly as he made his getaway. Shizuo leaned against the wall once again, laughing to himself as Izaya left. Now that he knew his hand definitely was a flea repellent, it would be stupid not to use it.


	2. Izaya/....??? (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ???

How things had gotten to this point was a mystery to all involved and something that wasn’t worth thinking about. The air in the room was thick, and the stench of sex and sweat was mixing. It was hard to breathe, let alone think, but Izaya managed to keep his head.

That was, until a soft pair of lips enveloped his cock, taking it whole and letting it slide to the back of an experienced throat. He twitched inside them as his eyes slipped closed, letting his hips gently roll as their inner walls squeezed him.

“Who knew that Shizu-chan was so tight? You’d never… think of a monster… as a virgin.”

The only reply Izaya was given was teeth brushing against his length, and he picked up the pace as his hands reached for Shinra’s hair. How cruel his childhood friend could be, torturing him with his mouth like this?

“Move faster.” Namie hissed, interrupting them as she gripped Izaya’s hips. She hadn’t even wanted to have sex with her employer, but now that she was, she wanted him to stop teasing her. 

With a laugh, Izaya slammed into her, groaning as Kadota tightened up around him. For such a powerful and well-respected man, Chikage really was making the cutest and most innocent faces as he absorbed Izaya’s cock into him.

Shinra’s lips suckled at Izaya’s cock as his ass became full of it, and Shiki ground himself down on top of the informant. He’d kill them all if they leaked his secret, even Shizuo, but as Celty moaned soundlessly he figured he didn’t have much to worry about.

Shadows drew the sticky bodies closer, and Izaya began to tense up. Shinra’s tongue licked him from base to tip, just as namie squeezed herself around him. Izaya let out a broken cry, slamming himself into Chikage as Shizuo held him closer.

He climaxed loudly, sending thick bursts of cum into his lovers and forcing them all to reach orgasm. 

Several seconds ticked by and Izaya pulled out, dragging Shiki close to him as Celty laid her head on his chest. The Head, though not invited, had watched everything, occasionally giving Izaya tips that only he could hear.

No one said a thing after that, deciding to clean themselves later and just surrender now to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izaya had seven dicks.


	3. Shinra/Izaya (sfw) (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinra and Izaya at Raijin.

“It’s so pathetic, you’re really lucky that I’m your _friend,_ Shinra. Anyone else would bully you if they heard that.” Izaya laughed, waving his hands dramatically. 

They’d been “studying independently” on the roof, enjoying the breeze and making small talk. Shinra hadn’t really wanted to follow Izaya anywhere, but after he’d started talking about a certain _someone,_ he’d found himself on the roof before he realised.

Izaya had, interestingly enough, let him talk for longer than usual. It was strange to go so long without being interrupted, and even though he hadn’t run out of things to gush about, he forced himself to stop after making his accidental confession.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just _kissing,_ and when you don’t have a h-”

“We’re _men,_ Shinra.” Izaya said, interrupting Shinra and inadvertently stopping him for talking about something he’d find truly amazing. “Men are supposed to be experienced in these things.”

“Does that mean you’ve kissed a girl, Orihara-kun?” Shinra replied chirpily, knowing Izaya well enough to know that asking him anything personal was sure to stop whatever Izaya was doing.

Izaya shrugged lazily, “I’ve kissed a person.”

“But not a girl?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If family counts, then I’m pretty sure I kissed my father when I was young.”

“That doesn’t count as a _kiss._ ”

“So a kiss needs to be with a girl, on the lips?”

Izaya’s expression faltered, and he took two steps closer to Shinra. “If yo-”

“Why are you so red?” Shinra tilted his head, not at all worried by just how close Izaya was getting. “Are you sick?”

“I’m not red.”

“You are!” Shinra bumped his forehead against Izaya’s lightly.

“Shinra, you’re too close…”

“You’re burning up! Do you want to go to the nurse?”

Shinra stuck a hand in his pocket to search for a thermometer, and turned his head slightly to look at what he pulled out of his pockets. At the same time, Izaya leaned in, missing Shinra’s lips by a fraction of an inch and kissing his cheek instead.

Both of them froze, then Izaya slowly moved his head away.

“Shinra, I think you might be right.” He said quietly, shoving both hands in his pockets. “I’d like to go to the nurse now.”

Shinra sighed to himself, unsure of what to make of the situation. “If you wanted to practice, you should have said. I would have told you _no,_ but since you went along and did it anyway, it’s only fair I pay you back.”

He leaned in and pecked Izaya’s cheek lightly, lips barely brushing against the warm skin.

“Let’s go to the nurses office. You really are too warm, Orihara-kun.”


	4. Shizuo/Izaya (NSFW) (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Izaya take a shower.

Showering had always been one of Izaya’s favourite activities. It didn’t matter if he needed one or not- if he had the time, he would strip himself off and take a long, relaxing shower.

It helped him to think, to go over new and old information, to make connections in his head, and to simply _relax._ Relaxing had always been something Izaya couldn’t do well, even if he always seemed to be a little too relaxed for his own good, so it was one of the few times he could truly let himself go.

Or rather, that was how it was _before_ he’d become involved with Heiwajima Shizuo.

The brute had intruded far too many times in the past, often barging into Izaya’s thoughts at the most inopportune times. But now that they were ~~dating~~  no longer actively trying to murder each other, Shizuo seemed to be think that it was alright to _physically_ intrude on Izaya as well.

Which was how they ended up in the god damn shower together in the first place.

“Flea, stop being such a greedy shit and let me have some water.”

“Shizu-chan, if _you_ weren’t so greedy with my time, you could have as much water as you wanted.”

“Shut up, I’m not greedy _for you._ ”

“Then why are you standing so close? There’s plenty of room _outside the shower._ ”

“I… I can’t trust you alone! I’ve gotta keep an eye on you, so you don’t try nothin’.”

“What would I try, Shizu-chan? I’m naked, and wet, and you’re staring at my-”

“Shut up!”

Shizuo, pink in the face from more than just the steam, slapped a hand over Izaya’s mouth as he directed his attention away from the thing he definitely _wasn’t_ staring at. Izaya, who was now used to this treatment, only rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a pervert…”

“Mez muurru urrgh”

“Am not! Fucking-!” Shizuo grunted in frustration, tightening his grip on Izaya’s mouth for a second before releasing it. He kept his eyes on the floor, scared to let his gaze travel anywhere. “I’m not touchin’ you…”

Izaya stretched his jaw, letting it crack once before taking a look at Shizuo’s very obvious erection. “By the looks of it, you don’t have to…”

“I don’t _want_ to!”

“You aren’t _allowed_ to, Shizu-chan. Unlike _you, I’m_ not a _pervert._ ”

“Bastard, you’re just as hard!”

“Hahaha! Are you saying that you’re hard?”

“I’m saying that _you_ are, idiot!”

Izaya looked down at himself, surprised to find that Shizuo was telling the truth. “It’s not because of you, it’s a perfectly natural thing to experience in the shower.”

“Huh? Well, fine. I guess that makes sense…” Shizuo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, giving Izaya the perfect view as his muscles flexed and moved. “…because mine isn’t for you.”

“Huh? Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, the only sound in the shower was the too-hot water hitting the ground, and the slightly heavier breathing coming from both its occupants.

“So… Natural… uh…” Shizuo had never really had a way with words, and subtlety was something he actually resented, so it was an understatement to say that finding the right words for what he wanted to say was borderline painful (given his condition). “Naturally, men… when we get these… we, uh… want them to go, right?”

“Right!” Izaya replied a little too quickly, eyes still trained on Shizuo’s chest “…right. Yes, I’m surprised that you know that, but as you’re so _unevolved,_ I guess you’re more in touch with your baser instincts.”

“My wh- Look Flea, I said I didn’t wanna touch you, so why would I want to touch my-”

“Your dick? Would you prefer it if I touched it?”

“Ye- No! I don’t want you to suck it, fucking pervert!”

“I never said I wanted to sit on it, Shizu-chan! I’m saying you should touch it yourself!”

Shizuo’s entire body started to turn red, including his now very enthusiastic cock. “Wh-What? You mean… but y-”

“But what? Are you afraid that you’ll finish early? Or maybe you want to ravish m-”

“No I don’t! I’d do a better job with my hand than your nice, tight ass could! Just keep your hands to yourself!”’

With a little more flair than was possibly needed, Shizuo shoved two of his fingers in his mouth whilst his other hand pushed done his stomach slowly. Izaya watched him intently, flinching when Shizuo’s sucking became far louder than necessary and his hand wrapped around his length.

“Mmm…” Shizuo mumbled around his fingers, before yanking them out of his mouth with a wet _pop,_ “B-Better than you already.”

His legs shifted apart slightly as he started to slowly pump himself and his eye lids lowered half way. Izaya watched as the recently freed fingers moved behind the blond, and he groaned along with Shizuo when he was sure they’d been inserted. 

“Fuck, ‘Zaya…” Shizuo’s hips started to move in time with the hand pumping his cock, small whimpering sounds escaping his lips as his breathing sped up. “B-Better… than you… right?”

“Wha…?” Izaya had long forgotten how to speak Japanese, too lost in Shizuo’s movements to care about anything else. “No… I’d-”

“ _Show me._ ”

Shizuo’s tone was almost unrecognisable, and the neediness and lust dripping from those two words had Izaya thrusting forward before his hand had even arrived at its location. He growled as he gripped himself, causing another, louder whimper to fall from Shizuo’s lips.

“Shizu-chan, move _faster._ ” Izaya demanded, his wrist twisting and turning as he jerked himself off. Shizuo complied, as he always did, speeding up to match Izaya’s pace.

“T-Too… ‘Zaya…”

“Not yet.”

“I’m…”

“ _Not yet._ ”

“ _Please fuck me._ ”

Izaya groaned loudly, his whole body electrified at the request. He shook his head and leaned his back against the tiles, not trusting himself to decline properly should he open his mouth.

Shizuo, on the other hand, was too caught up in his own pleasure to notice. He took a shaky step forward, letting out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whine, then rest his forehead against Izaya’s.

“ _Please._ ”

Their lips were almost touching, and the water was beginning to cool. Shizuo continued to thrust back on his fingers, more interested in the stretching himself than playing with his dick.

Izaya moved his lips closer, brushing them against Shizuo’s as he tried to think.

“’ _Zaya._ ” It was the breathless, content way Shizuo said Izaya’s name that changed the other mans mind, and Shizuo felt his back slam against the cool tiles before he knew what had happened.

He spread his legs, bending his knees slightly as Izaya hooked his arms beneath them. Despite their very obvious difference in strength, Izaya could lift Shizuo easily (especially at times like this).

Shizuo’s legs wrapped around his hips, and the blond wriggled himself toward Izaya’s cock. 

“Put it in.”

“No…” Izaya’s hands moved to grope Shizuo’s ass, spreading the cheeks as Shizuo writhed against him. “No… lube. Don’t… _fuck._ ”

He was rudely interrupted by the feeling of Shizuo’s hand capturing both their dicks, and dug his nails into Shizuo’s rear. Shizuo tensed slightly at the sensation, then let out series of short pants as his hand began to move. 

“’Zaya, _please fuck me._ ”

Izaya bucked forward, letting out a hiss before crashing his lips into Shizuo’s. Their kiss was frenzied and a mess of teeth, as Izaya’s nails raked harshly against the soft of Shizuo’s thighs. Shizuo’s arms wrapped around Izaya’s neck, leaving him to rut against Izaya’s stomach as he whined for more.

Sensing that a hand job might not be enough for either of them now, Izaya pushed Shizuo against the wall as he turned off the taps, then walked both of them out of the shower. There was lube in the medicine cabinet, and he had no doubt that they wouldn’t make it to the bedroom.

He sat Shizuo on the very edge of the basin as he rummaged through the cabinet, finding the bottle despite the fact that Shizuo was currently sucking on his lower lip. 

“Shizu-chan, wait a… second.” Izaya tried, but his voice couldn’t even convince himself. “Fuck.”

In record time, Izaya managed to pop off the lid and squeeze far too much lube into his hand. He tossed the bottle into the sink (there was no time to spare), and shoved most of it on his cock. It was cold, almost icy compared to Shizuo’s hand, but it warmed quickly.

Shizuo seemed to want to move things along as well, as he slicked two fingers along Izaya’s dick, gathering as much lube as he could, before pushing them into himself. 

“’Zaya, hurry, pl-please…” he begged, voice a little higher than usual as his legs tried to inch Izaya closer. “’m ready…”

Izaya nodded, moving his hand away from himself and under Shizuo’s knees. He pulled them up high, pushing them until they were almost touching Shizuo’s shoulders and the blond was spread out for him.

On any other day he’d admire the view for a little longer, but it already felt as though he’d been waiting centuries for this, and he didn’t want to delay for even a second longer. Lining himself up, the tip of his cock pushed against Shizuo’s hole lightly before pressing in.

Both the men gasped with the feeling, Shizuo bucking up to meet Izaya more in an effort to make him _hurry the fuck up._ But Izaya was careful, speeding up only a little and taking his time to sheath himself. Shizuo was more important than the brief pleasure he’d feel, which meant that he needed to take his time.

Shizuo readjusted around him, his insides pulling and squeezing Izaya’s dick in the most delicious way. With a small  _“please,”_ the blond signalled that he was ready to be fucked properly, and whimpered as Izaya pulled himself out a little before slamming back in. 

Both men shook with the action, Shizuo’s legs trying to spread even further as Izaya rocked into him. His pace, as usual, start small and slow, but would increase until he was fucking into Shizuo with every ounce of strength he had.

Just the thought of it made Shizuo’s toes curl, that familiar feeling winding itself throughout his body.

“’Zaya, I’m-”

Izaya cut him off with another kiss as he started to move his hips more, slamming into Shizuo with more precision than either of them would be willing to admit. 

Shizuo tensed, as his mouth opened and he became unable to return the kiss. He pushed himself against Izaya a little more and relished the feeling of the informant’s stomach rubbing against his cock. 

“Shizu-chan, don’t cum yet!” Izaya scolded, despite knowing all too well that Shizuo was going to climax anyway. It felt as though his dick were suddenly being sucked into Shizuo’s body, with all of the blond’s muscles tensing _just enough_ to drag Izaya over the edge as well.

They both came at the same time; Izaya yelling Shizuo’s name whilst the blond practically whined Izaya’s. Shizuo’s ass squeezed around Izaya’s cock as he climaxed, milking him of every last drop as the informant cursed over and over again. 

They stayed in that position for some time afterward, catching their breath and simply _being._ Izaya pulled himself out of Shizuo, who kissed him on the neck in return, then went back to the shower and turned it on.

“What’re you doing?”

“Having a shower.” Izaya replied, testing the water with his hand. “You can have one when I’m done.”

“Nah… I’ve gotta have one with you.”

Izaya sighed heavily, ignoring the pleasant feeling in his chest. He’d likely never have another shower alone, but that didn’t seem _so_ bad.


	5. Izaya and his cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cats love Izaya.

It wasn’t often that the Informant of Shinjuku felt afraid, but on one particularly clear autumn night, he couldn’t shake help it. It was as though he were being watched, but each time he tried to outsmart his stalker, they managed to slip through his fingers.

This feeling had been growing ever since a particularly bad fight with Shizuo several weeks earlier. He’d almost been killed by one of the brute’s lucky shot’s, only managing to dodge the lamp post at the last second. It was a good thing he had, given that it destroyed a recently abandoned dwelling when it passed him.

He’d limped back to Shinjuku shortly after, but wasn’t quite sure he’d really lost Shizuo. He felt eyes upon him, watching his movements.

He felt judged.

But that had been weeks ago, and he was now becoming annoyed with his stalker. 

Deciding to finally corner them, he ducked down an alley with a dead end and a fire escape. He climbed it quickly, hiding himself in the shadows as he laid in wait for the person following him.

‘ _Is it Shizu-chan? Has he finally grown another brain cell and decided to hunt me like the caveman he is?_ ’ He wondered to himself as he flicked open his knife. 

From where he was hiding, he could see shadows on the wall no matter which direction their owners came from. It only took a moment to see the first dark figure moving across the wall, followed by another, and another, and another…

‘ _What is this? They don’t… look human? Are they friends of the Courier?_ ’

Over a dozen strange figures moved across the wall as Izaya prepared himself. There was the possibility that he couldn’t fight them, but he was in a position to move further up the fire escape should he need to. He just needed to wait, to evaluate his harassers befo-

_Bang!_

Izaya’s head shot up to the noise above him, as he crouched and centred himself. It wasn’t ideal to fight for his life on a fire escape, but it was better than not being able to at all.

He was just about to throw a blade where he’d heard the noise, when he heard a very _distinct_ sound.

_Meow._

_Mrrrrow._

Izaya looked in disbelief as five or more cats stared down at him from the rooftop. He turned back to the alley, only to find over a dozen more trying their hardest to climb up the ladder and up to him.

“What…?”

After his stalkers had been forced to reveal themselves, they never did try to hide again. From then on, Izaya could be seen sprinting through the streets during chases with Shizuo, as fifty or more cats trailed behind him. Shiki had to schedule meetings with him that took place at Izaya’s apartment rather than the car, as they were unable to drive when surrounded by so many cats.

And so life went on exactly as it did before, only now, Orihara Izaya had an army of cats.


	6. Izaya/Namie (NSFW) (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya is bored.

“This is no fun. I’m so _bored._ ”

“So why not keep working?” Namie asked as she continued her typing, the gentle tapping being the only noise to to the apartment apart from their voices.

“Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

“You don’t pay me for this, and you couldn’t afford it anyway.” Namie replied as she paused her typing to look at the man between her legs. “Unless you’re offering me a raise? I don’t think you can _get it up_ high enough for my liking.”

Izaya sighed dramatically, letting his breath hit the now visibly wet area between Namie’s legs. He’d been down here for five minutes already, and Namie’s distinct _lack_ of encouragement was boring him to tears.

He pushed a second finger inside of her and waited for any sort of reaction, but was only met with _more tapping._

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate your work ethic, but do you have to do that _now_?”

“Is there something more important for me to do?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having _some_ of your attention whilst you have so much of mine.” Izaya leaned his head on Namie’s thigh as his fingers began to make a ‘come hither’ motion inside of her, and his thumb brushing against her clit.

“If you did it _properly,_ but you haven’t done anything interesting. You won’t even let me think of Seiji.”

“Do you make a habit of thinking of other men?” Izaya responds, as if all of this were some joke. “No wonder your brother has no time for you, if you’re _that_ fickle.”

“Don’t blame Seiji for your incompetence.” Namie’s typing slows, however, and her breathing sounds just a _little_ more strained. “Can’t you do any better than that?”

“I could if you let me-”

“I’m not having sex with a pervert.”

Izaya rolls his eyes as he leans in, knowing better than to argue with her. They did everything _but_ that, so it wasn’t as if either were missing out, but it all just felt so ludicrous sometimes. Still, if that’s what she wanted, he wouldn’t force her. He much preferred it when she was desperate and willing.

His tongue slipped out from between his lips, softly circling the area surrounding the bundle of nerve endings. His fingers moved steadily, finding a quick rhythm as he kept tonguing her.

Namie’s typing slowed further, until Izaya could barely hear one key a minute, and she wrapped a leg around him. 

Izaya laughed at that, forcing Namie to shiver as she frowned. The vibrations were almost as unbearable as his arrogance, and she fought to shut him up by pulling him closer.

Izaya stopped his teasing, ceasing the circular movements around her clit so that he could suck lightly on it instead. He felt a hand drop to his shoulder as nails tried to sink into his skin, and he began alternating between sucking on her and flicking his tongue.

Namie was totally silent now, save for her heavy breathing. She was always silent during these moments, right until the very end when she’d-

“ _Izaya…_ ”

Namie’s thighs tightened around Izaya’s head, dragging him in closer and her body stiffened. She spasmed slightly, her breathing ceasing altogether as something warm hit Izaya’s fingers. 

He pulled them out slowly, then lapped at her entrance until Namie pushed him away. She was too over-sensitive, she always explained, and didn’t want to try for more than one at a time.

Izaya moved back on his knees, staring up at her from the ground as she crossed her legs. Namie opened her eyes after a moment, and if it weren’t for the pink in her cheeks, one would never have known that she’d just been brought to orgasm by the man in front of him.

“Namie-san, would you like to do me in the chair, or somewhere else?” Izaya asked a little too eagerly. The deal had been the same as it always was: to bring Namie to orgasm within ten minutes, or else she wouldn’t reciprocate.

Namie looked down at Izaya with a smirk, then reached for the digital watch beside her that she’d been using to time the encounter.

“Thirteen minutes and three seconds.”

“That doesn’t count if you’re only looking at it n-”

“I hit the snooze button just as it happened, Izaya.” Namie interrupted, dropping the watch on Izaya’s lap before moving her hands back to the keyboard. “Come back in fifteen minutes and try your luck again.”

With a loud huff, Izaya crawled out from under her desk and made his way back over to his own. But despite his protests and indignation, Namie knew he’d come back in exactly fifteen minutes, just as he always did.


	7. Cryzaya.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

It wasn’t strange for one to find Izaya standing alone in the rain with a strange expression on his face. It was almost as if he were smiling, but it was still so odd that you couldn’t have classed it as being anywhere close to happy.

It was stranger still that the mans hood were down, letting his hair become wet as beads of water ran down his face. As he stared at the apartment in front of him, the beads seemed to grow in number, illuminated by the light shining out the windows.

It looked warm inside, with various people walking around, laughing and joking with one another. None of them so much as glanced out the window, too caught up in their own happiness to even consider dragging their attentions away from their friends.

A choked noise escaped the lips of the informant despite his best efforts, and his face flushed slightly. No matter how hard he tried to stop it, the sound was followed by another, and another, until there was no stopping in between.

One of the men inside the apartment seemed to have heard and made his way to the window before Izaya could hide himself away. With no escape he chose to stand his ground, glaring up at the familiar face as it peered out at him.

The man opened the window, looking down at Izaya with a quizzical expression.

“Oi, Flea.”

Izaya held back another sob, turning his head to look anywhere but at Shizuo. He heard a loud sigh, and for a moment let himself hope.

“Flea, we’re having hotpot.” Shizuo sighed, as if this were all too hard to say. He scratched his head awkwardly, before adding: “Do ya’ want some?”

Izaya couldn’t hide the joy he felt at the offer, his head snapping back to Shizuo with a large grin on his face. 

“Shizu-chan, y-yes!”

“Good.” Shizuo replied, smiling kindly at Izaya before turning around to grab something. “Wait there.”

Izaya stood in the rain nervously, wondering why Shizuo was being so kind to him. He was even speaking on his behalf, attempting to get Izaya an invite. By the time Shizuo returned to the window, he was almost beside himself with joy.

“I hope you’re hungry!” Shizuo smiled, just as he threw the contents of the hotpot out the window and onto Izaya. “YOU FUCKING FLEA! I TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF IKEBUKURO!”

Despite being covered with food, Izaya took off running just as Shizuo launched himself out the window. 


	8. Izaya... a-and... his swivel chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ???

The air was thick and damp, and it made Izaya itchy.

The groaning was quiet and almost impossible to hear, but to Izaya it was almost deafening.

“What’s this? So loud!” Izaya chuckled to himself as he readjusted. His hands brushed over the hardness below, causing his seat to shake beneath him. “You’re feeling tight! I guess we need some more lubricant.”

Craning his neck to the side, Izaya’s eyes caught Namie’s.

“Get it yourself. I’m not going over there while you’re-”

“While I’m _what?_ ” Izaya grinned, as if he already knew the answer. He didn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop him from pissing off Namie.

“Ugh.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll get it myself!” He slid from his chair and bent over at the waist, before rummaging through his lowest drawer. He picked the vial up with two experienced fingers, plucking the cap off as he got on his knees.

“This may be a bit cold!” He warned, applying the liquid directly. “Whoops! Too much! Well, I guess it’s better too much than not enough.”

“Do you have to do that while I’m here? You don’t pay me enough to endure… whatever you’re doing.”

Izaya didn’t respond immediately, his eyes focused on the beads of oil dripping slowly down the cylinder beneath his chair.

“I’m oiling my chair, Namie-san.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to-”

“To what? I’m not as _shameless_ as you are with your brother, and not as desperate either.”

Namie huffed and shot him a disgusting look before grabbing her things and clocking out. She snapped some particularly rude advice at him as she left, but it almost sounded like a plea at this point. 

Izaya laughed as she left, then turned back to his chair. With a very heavy sigh, he pushed the seat back with one finger. As _totally_ uncalled for as it was for Namie to speak to Izaya that way, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had a point. It really had been a long time for him, and he was already sporting a partial just because he’d oiled his dumb chair.

With that realisation, he jumped to his feet and bolted out the door. It might be better to go take his frustrations out on a certain bleached idiot instead.


	9. Slon/Vorona (very NSFW) (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well then...

The floorboards of the abandoned apartment groaned loudly, only _just_ able to take the weight that was literally being thrown around on top of it. An old picture-frame, now dusty and forgotten, shook wildly on the wall, threatening to fall and shatter.

The sun had only just set, but the room was dark. It’s occupants, an incredibly tall (and seemingly surprised) man, and a supposedly violent woman, were barely able to see each other. 

Slon told himself it was for this reason that Vorona had managed to get the jump on him at all, as he outmatched her in terms of brute strength, but even he wasn’t arrogant enough to believe it. He threw his arm in front of his face, planning on protecting himself from what looked to be another punch, but received a front kick to the chest instead.

Despite her size, Vorona had always been strong. She was able to use her slight weight to her advantage, whilst simultaneously holding her opponents against them. She watched as Slon flew into the wall behind him, leaving what could almost be called a crater in his wake.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it still seemed exciting and new each time it did. As Slon slid down the wall, Vorona stalked toward him, unbuttoning her coat as she did. It had been unusually warm for the season, and the coat had been more habit than necessity anyway.

She let it drop to the floor and pool around her feet, standing barely a foot away from where Slon had fallen. Vorona didn’t say a thing as she untucked her shirt, her eyes locked onto Slon’s as if there were nothing else to look at.

Slon knew what this meant, he’d known the second he was punched in the face. Successful missions always seemed to turn his partner on, but with the amount of violence she’d already used, it meant that she was _really_  feeling it today.

Being the gentleman that he was, he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint.

His leg shot out, aiming for her ankle in an attempt to literally sweep her off her feet. She jumped at the last second, just as he knew she would, which is when he lunged forward and grabbed her still-airborne ankles with both his hands.

Pulling her forward harshly sent her off balance, and by the time her back hit the floor, he was already on top of her.

Vorona’s wrists were pinned with one of Slon’s hands, and she struggled to free herself. There was nothing playful or coy about this, and Slon knew that Vorona was testing him. He’d let her go the first time this had happened, only to find himself tied up to a broken industrial radiator as she teased him for two hours. What he remembered the most from that encounter had been her almost humiliating lecture on why she’d only ever let someone who topped her physically top her sexually.

Still, he made sure to watch her carefully, examining her expressions to see if anything slipped through. Though it looked as though she was expressionless for the most part, he’d worked alongside her for long enough to spot exactly what she was feeling…. and this evening, it didn’t look to be fear.

“Vorona, can I die from a kick to the chest?” He asked as his free hand  brushed the hair out of her face. 

Vorona didn’t reply, choosing to quickly turn her face to bite his fingers instead. He grunted, tugging on them slightly in an effort to free them, but she bit down harder. Though she still hadn’t said anything, he was sure she was warning him that she’d take the tips off should he try to remove them.

He was trying to decide whether it was worth the risk when something wet and slick swirled around them, forcing a little happier noise out of his lips. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising, given that Vorona _always_ played dirty, but it did catch him off guard.

Slon already regretted that he’d chosen to straddled her instead of settling between her legs, as the itch between his became slightly more unbearable. The most he could do was use his trapped fingers as a proxy, pushing them in and out of Vorona’s lips as his grip on her wrists grew more relaxed.

It was at that time that Vorona tore from his grip and shoved his chest backward, using Slon’s weight and surprise against him once again. She crawled on top of him quickly, releasing his fingers from her mouth as her hands attacked his shirt. 

She’d managed to rip three or four buttons open by the time he’d recovered, and he threw her face down onto the ground in front of him. One of his hands applied pressure into the small of her back to keep her pinned, whilst the other tore down her pants roughly.

“You’re so cruel, Vorona!” He said a little more gruffly, pinching the skin of her rear gingerly. Neither of them spoke much during these encounters, both far too preoccupied with other activities.

The pinching made Vorona squirm as her legs spread, causing a devilish smile to find its way to Slon’s face. Leaning down, he gave one of her cheeks a long, languid lick, and relished in the small squeaks that forced their way out of Vorona’s throat.

She was trying to arch into him now, her ass squirming beneath his mouth. It was too tempting, even for Slon, and he let his teeth graze her skin.

He received something almost _whiny_ in return for his efforts, and couldn’t stop himself from sucking and nipping at the area relentlessly. Vorona grew louder, though her voice was slightly muffled, and by the time Slon had finished there were a series of bright red marks scattered on the pale skin.

He slapped it hard, eliciting another squeak from her, before rolling her over. Slon could feel his heartbeat in his dick when he looked at her, her flushed features and bloodied lip more arousing than anything he’d seen before.

He released her quickly, struggling to unzip himself as Vorona kicked off the remainder of her pants. She was spread wide before he’d even pulled out his erection, and he could feel the precum pump out of him at the view.

Quickly, he moved on top of her, sliding himself into her with practiced eased. He groaned at the sensation, feeling as though he was being sucked in, and heard that muffled moan from Vorona again.

She was, again, biting down on her own fingers in an attempt to stifle the symphony of sounds hiding in her throat. Slon pulled out and thrust himself back in with a little more force than necessary. It was hard enough that Vorona gasped, then wrapped her legs around his hips. She arched off the ground and into him, as if asking for more.

Slon agreed, apparently, and repeated the action several times with varying intensities. Vorona’s hands moved out of her mouth and to Slon’s throat, fingers lightly tracing the muscles.

She was teasing him again, making him want it more and more, and it caused him to pick up the pace. He moved faster, his hands moving to grab her ass and lift it slightly to better the angle. 

Vorona cried out at the change, arching her back even more as her fingers circled Slon’s throat. She squeezed hard, as if she were really looking to kill him, until his face was bright red and he was grunting her name like a mantra.

She loosened her grip and pulled his head lower, rising up to meet him in a bruising kiss. Vorona was more honest like this, letting her voice echo into his mouth as she tightened her grip on his throat again.

He was starting to feel lightheaded, and the pressure in the pit of his stomach was starting to rise. His mouth was agape, something that Vorona took advantage of as she bit his lips before suddenly releasing him again.

It took longer for him to recover this time, but he didn’t let the action go unpunished. He slammed into her harder and faster, until he was drilling into her at an almost brutal pace. 

Vorona’s legs squeezed him more tightly as her hands moved over his shoulders and onto his back, the gentle touches sending shivers down his spine until they suddenly turned violent. Her nails dug into his skin, dragging from the small of his back to the middle and forcing a series of obscenities out of Slon’s mouth.

He pulled away from Vorona’s lips, tempted to bite and mark her throat instead. He couldn’t, given that Drakon would shoot him should he ever discover these trysts, but that only made him want it more.

“ _Slon._ ”

Shit, shit, shit! 

Just hearing Vorona say his name was too much for him, and every one of his muscles tensed. He tried to keep moving but it was too much, and he emptied himself into her with an embarrassingly loud cry. 

He panted heavily after he’d finished, not wanting to move even an inch while he was feeling so oversensitive. Vorona had other ideas, it seemed, and she rolled him off of her and onto the ground beside her.

He landed with a loud thump and made a small _umph_  sound, but was too busy attempting to catch his breath to really care about it. 

“The male refractory period is mysterious and confusing, and is impossible to average. Stimulation will no longer be stimulating, only irritating.” Vorona said quietly, her voice sounding a little breathless. “It is thought that women do not experience refractory periods.”

“Vorona.” Slon replied, rolling his head so that he could look at her properly. “Are you saying you’d like to go again?”

Vorona smiled a very small smile at the question, and punched Slon as hard as she could in the face.

He supposed that meant ‘yes’.


	10. Shizuo/Izaya (SFW) (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo and Izaya go to a pet shop.

The staff at the animal shelter were used to seeing untamed animals, often being bitten by those which were confused, or scratched when they tried to aid them. One would think that, given this experience, they would be prepared for almost anything. Unfortunately, there were still things in this world that scared them.

“WHAT DO YOU EVEN NEED AN OWL FOR, HUH? ARE YOU A FUCKING ELF?” Shizuo roared, sending all the surrounding animals into silence. Realising that he must have frightened them, he took a step back from his boyfriend to apologise to the dog beside him.

“Why would an elf have an owl, Shizu-chan? It would be bigger than he was.” Izaya laughed, the vein in his temple throbbing with outrage. “It’s practical. You can train them to carry messages.”

“Tch!” Shizuo huffed, giving the dog beside him a soft pat on the head before he started looking at the other animals. “That’s seagulls, Flea! Not owls!”

Izaya ignored the ridiculous statement, choosing to look around the area himself instead. He’d been told they didn’t have any owls here, and though he really wasn’t looking for a replacement, it couldn’t hurt to look.

He was in the middle of a staring contest with what looked to be an annoyed parrot when Shizuo finally said something. “Oi, ‘Zaya, come look at this. Does this remind you of something?”

Izaya waited for the parrot to blink, smirking before skipping over to Shizuo victoriously. His smile dropped when he saw what the blond was looking at, an expression of disgust taking its place when he noticed just how Shizuo was looking at it.

“It looks… familiar, don’t it?” Shizuo said quietly, gesturing toward the rat in front of him. “Sorta cute, yeah? In an ugly way.”

“We’re not getting a rat.”

“Huh? But look at it!” Shizuo insisted, “Sure it looks kinda shitty, like it’s looking down on me or somethin’, but have you ever seen colouring like that? It’s like it’s wearing a coa-”

Seeing exactly where Shizuo was going with that statement and not wanting him to realise that the rat might have borne a small, insignificant resemblance to himself if you squinted, Izaya grabbed Shizuo’s sleeve. “Shizu-chan… Can we look at something else?”

Shizuo was immediately thrown by just cute and soft Izaya’s voice was, and instantly became suspicious. “What?!”

“What ‘what’?”

“What’d you do?”

Izaya took a step backward and raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t do anything!”

Shizuo’s eyes trailed over Izaya’s body, as if he were searching for a bomb, but came up empty. He let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling, closing his eyes with a sigh as he pinched his brow. “Then just pick something that can’t fly.”

“But Shizu-cha-”

“Nothing that flies!” Shizuo repeated, really not wanting to have to deal with two things he couldn’t catch in his home. “Just pick a cat or something.”

“A cat? How cliché!” Izaya laughed, twirling around like a child. “In fact, everything here is cliché! Why don’t you let me call someone and we’ll arrange to buy something exotic!”

Shizuo’s head snapped toward Izaya at the word, eyes narrowing and teeth barred. “Nothing erotic! Fucking pervert pest! Why the fuck are you going to other guys for erotic pets, huh?”

He advanced on Izaya, eyes wild as his hands clenched into fists. Izaya frowned as he moved backward, not understanding why he would be forced to explain the difference between ‘erotic’ and ‘exotic,’ when he felt his foot catch on something. He tumbled backward, landing on a series of cheap cages which broke open upon impact, setting off a chain reaction.

Birds, cats, dogs, and god knows what else, all scared by the loud sounds and murderous atmosphere, took the opportunity to leave. The two men stood (and sat) quietly as the squawking and barking slowly lessened, and the stampede subsided. By the time it was over, only a small cat remained, sitting happily on Izaya’s knee.

“Wha- What did you do?!” A panicked employee yelled, coming in to find the room empty.

Izaya reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, only to be met with a demand to leave. Shizuo apologised quietly as they left, insisting on paying for the cat that seemed to want to stay with them, then lowered his head in shame for the rest of the journey home.


	11. Shizuo x Izaya (SFWish?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College au where Izaya needs more sleep.

Despite being given a full scholarship and having all of his living expenses paid for, Orihara Izaya was hard at work. He’d been forced to trade what was supposed to have been a relaxing day in his too-large apartment for this, whatever this was, and he resented every second of it.

His smile never faulted despite the horribly graphic thoughts circulating throughout his mind. Did his professors think he was a joke? He wasn’t even studying medicine, and yet he was going to be graded on something like this? With no training or experience?

Izaya was self-assured enough to believe that he’d pass the exam despite the lack of training, and if he became desperate then he could always ask Namie to help him. She was studying some sort of scientific thing, to do with chemicals and (most likely) torture, but even she must have been forced to take this test. His professor had said that each student at the school did, and that _“You aren’t special enough to get out of it, Orihara. Get looking.”_

Ridiculous.

Despite the ludicrous demand, Izaya had decided to complete the task as best he could. He decided that, even though this was so fucking stupid, he would be the best in his year. If he had to find a proctor, he would find the best one and perform the greatest prostate exam his school had ever seen. He would not only excel in his own field, but surely have the medical department begging him to change his major.

All he needed to do was locate the best patient for the job.

He needed someone healthy, someone attractive, and someone who looked as though they weren’t backed up. Meat eaters were out, because who knew how awful they’d smell from down there, and anyone who was eating junk food was also a no go. He needed someone who looked as though they cared about their body.

That’s when he saw him. A blonde man, most likely the same age as Izaya, was sitting on a bench beside the library. He was alone, which made him an easy target (because no one would want to agree to such a request in the presence of their friends), and he was eating an entire head of lettuce.

Obviously, this was a man with healthy movements.

Izaya took a deep breath and readjusted his face, hoping that his smile would be enough to cover the heavy bags under his eyes. He needed to look cool and calm, as asking about a stranger’s prostate was nothing out of the ordinary, and needed to look capable of performing the exam professionally.

He shook the sleep right off his face and smiled a little wider, then strode confidently toward the stranger. He was unnaturally close to him, but that was only because he wanted the conversation to be as private as possible.

The stranger looked up from his lettuce, a questioning look on his face. “What?”

“My name is Orihara Izaya, and I need to examine your prostate.”

The stranger choked on the mouthful of lettuce. “You w-what?”

“It won’t take long. I’ll find it in no time at all.” Izaya boasted, full of false confidence. “If you need references that can back up my level of expertise, I’d only be too happy to oblige.”

“References?” The blond’s eyes widened as a faint pink touched his cheeks. He looked around wildly, trying to spot the hidden cameras. “Is this a joke?”

“I can assure you that it’s not, Prostate-san.”

“Pros-? Oi, my name’s Heiwajima Shizuo, and I’m n-”

“Fine, Shizu-chan.” Izaya waved a hand dismissively then took a seat beside Shizuo. “It won’t take long, and if you require compensation then I suppose that could be arranged.”

The lettuce fell from Shizuo’s hands and hit the ground with a soft thud. “Why me?”

“You look healthy enough. You’re even eating lettuce.”

“Bu-What?” Shizuo’s mind reeled at the non-answer. He’d only been eating that lettuce because he was too poor to afford anything better, and now he was being hit on for it. He made a mental note to look online about this to see if it were a common happening, and tried to work out what the strange brunette’s angle was.

Izaya only looked at Shizuo sweetly, trying his best to look professional and appealing. “If you’d rather not, I won’t force you.”

“U-Uh, will I be finding yours as well? I mean, uh…” Shizuo ran a hand through his hair, feeling stupid for even asking. “Just… I’d feel stupid if it were only me?”

Izaya frowned for a second as he thought, then nodded his head. If he were to perform the exam, then Shizuo would most likely need to as well. It only made sense that they partnered together. “You can if you would like, do you have much experience?”

Shizuo blushed and shook his head. “I uh, that is-”

“Ah, well it’s my first time as well, so we’ll learn together. Mine is likely quite easy to find, so you shouldn’t have much trouble.”

“R-right.” What?

“If you aren’t busy, would you like to come to my place? We can begin there.”

“Huh? Wait, can we grab a coffee or something first?”

“That sounds fine, I haven’t slept for more than an hour this week, so that would do the world of good.” Izaya rose from his seat and walked a few steps away, then turned back to face Shizuo. “Are you coming, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo looked around for the hidden cameras one last time before he stood, then quickly followed Izaya. It had been quite a while and, if he were being honest, the brunette was quite attractive. Maybe being too poor to afford anything better to eat wasn’t such a bad thing after all.


	12. Slon/???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)))

It had been a long time for Slon.

Being an assassin, though exciting, really could put a damper on your personal life. Add two bullets to the knees to that, and Slon honestly didn’t have the energy anymore.

That isn’t to say he ever lacked the desire though, as he was still a man with needs and urges and cravings.

He wasn’t picky and didn’t have a type, just taking the easiest home for a forgettable evening of going through the motions. He’d wake up the next morning and be alone, his wallet a little emptier and his heart a little colder.

It wasn’t important anyway, that’s what he told himself. He didn’t need anything special or full of love to get him through the day. _‘I’d probably forget about it anyway, and what’s the point in only having something mind blowing once?’_

He was cynical, that was certain, but after hearing about Vorona’s adventures with various people he couldn’t help but become a little more curious. He wanted the tenderness of what she spoke of, though he knew she wasn’t one who could provide him with that (not that he’d want her to anyway).

So he went looking.

He searched every corner of Ikebukuro, a place where you could find a great many strange things, and found what he’d craved for longer than he could recall. Eighteen thousand yen later and he was back at his apart, looking at what was spread in front of him.

Using a finger, as if he were a curious virgin, he stroked the moist area in front of him and swallowed his own moan. He pushed it in to the knuckle, glad he had the place to himself, then slowly withdrew it, bringing it to his lips to wash it clean.

It tasted strange, but it was warm and reminded him of the home he’d never had. Though he’d promised himself that he would take things slow, he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed his tool (bought _just_ for this occasion) and turned it on, relishing the vibrations in his palm.

He brought the electric cutter down and just the beef gently, precise lengths of meat flopping to the side before he pulled the device away, deciding to simply eat the entire roast with a knife and fork. It was delicious and melted on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the cake Vorona had suggested for dessert would taste like.


	13. Shizuo/Izaya (SFW) (4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic au.

Shizuo and Izaya hadn’t been dating (if you could call it that) for a day before Shizuo had tried to throw Izaya through a window. The informant seemed to become even more annoying now that Shizuo was spending less time trying to kill him, but he couldn’t seem to figure out why.

Izaya was wearing the same clothes he usually did, doing the same shitty things he usually did, and talking in the same shitty way he usually did. The only things that really changed about him were his smell, and that he couldn’t seem to outrun Shizuo anymore.

Three months into their relationship, and Shizuo was ready to actually murder him (though he would admittedly feel sad about it if he did), and decided to try and figure out why.

He spent some time online, using Google to try and find solutions or explanations, only to get links to pet care centres and forums on house training cats. He found this strange but put it down to technology being useless before giving up entirely.

Meanwhile, a certain other informant found this to be highly amusing.

By the fifth month, he decided to ask Tom for advice. After an incredibly awkward conversation, his senpai hypothesised that if Izaya hadn’t changed, then that only meant that Shizuo must have.

Shizuo scoffed and lit another cigarette, but he couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

It took another month of soul searching for Shizuo to realise that Tom was right. Izaya hadn’t changed, but Shizuo had. He had always been good at seeing through Izaya’s many masks, and he soon realised that he wasn’t annoyed with Izaya. He was actually annoyed _for_ him.

Izaya was a child stuck in the body of an adult and wanted what all children crave. He wanted to be loved and needed, to feel useful and appreciated. He was intelligent and needed to show off and became bored far too easily.

This realisation hit Shizuo like a tonne of bricks one evening when he was preparing dinner. He’d decided to cook for Izaya, having found a recipe for some sort of pasta that he’d never eaten before. He’d been grating some cheese when the thought struck and, surprised by this revelation, broke the cheese grater.

“Shizu-chan can’t do anything right.” Izaya teased, walking into the kitchen.

“Tch, I’d like to see you do better.” Shizuo replied lamely, a faint pink in his cheeks.

Izaya laughed, pulling out a knife before slicing the cheese into wafer thin slices at a speed any chef would envy. When he was done, he smirked at his boyfriend, but Shizuo could see the pride shining behind it.

“Thanks, Flea.” he mumbled, trying to look as grumpy as possible, “…guess you did a good job.”

Izaya’s smirk faltered but returned quickly, but there was no hiding the look in his eyes.

After that, Shizuo had more “accidents” whenever Izaya was around, often asking him to help in the grumpiest ways he could. Izaya would laugh at him but always comply, and Shizuo found himself less and less annoyed.

If Izaya needed to be needed in small ways on a daily basis, Shizuo wouldn’t mind acting a little stupid every now and then. He only hoped that Izaya would one day realise that he needed him in order to feel complete, and not just because he broke things.


	14. Shizuo.../Izaya?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ???

This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s all Erika could say to herself when she walked into the room. She had only given Izaya and Shizuo a little chemical encouragement without their knowledge, but she’d had no idea that their metabolisms were this bizarre.

Shizuo was clinging to the ceiling fan which had somehow not ripped from the ceiling. Izaya was standing shamelessly below him, noticeable bulge in his pants and broom in his hands as he tried to swat Shizuo from his perch.

“S-STOP IT, FL-FLEA!” Shizuo yelled, his voice a little strangled. As usual, drugs had a strange effect on the man, leaving him blushing like a virgin. “Go away!”

“Shi-zu-chan!” Izaya replied, swatting at him once again and only receiving a yelp in return for his efforts, “Come down and _play_!”

Shizuo tensed, gripping his perch more tightly. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so ~~flustered and embarrassed, as if someone were whispering lewd compliments about certain body parts of his into his ear~~  uneasy, but he knew that Izaya was only making it worse.

“I said no!”

“Shi-zu-chan!”

“No!”

**_Whack!_ **

Izaya whacked Shizuo, managing to bump a leg. With great speed, Izaya launched himself from the ground and took a hold of it, yanking on it with all of his strength.

Shizuo whimpered, shaking his leg and clinging to the ceiling fan some more before the equipment was finally pushed to its limit, ripping from the ceiling and falling to the ground with a large crash.

Shizuo landed on top of Izaya, who started making strange grunting noises at the contact. Shizuo blushed more, trying to rise to his feet only to find himself unable to.

“Iz-Izaya! N-not there!” he whined, looking away to find Erika standing in the doorway, face covered in blood. He covered his face with his hands, squeaking with embarrassment. “There’s someone _watching_!”

“You’re a protozoan,” Izaya replied gruffly, grinding his hips against Shizuo, “you don’t mind an audience.”

“Ahh!  _Izaya-kun!_ ”

Both men ignored the loud thump that sounded when Erika hit the floor, the poor girl unable to cope with all her dreams coming true.


	15. Akane & Tsukumoya Shinichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken from my Tsukumoya blog. There might be some rp context needed, but I think it should be fine.

Akane had been crying for at least fifteen minutes and it didn’t look as though she were going to stop any time soon. Despite how much Tsukumoya could disassociate from such scenes, he couldn’t help the way he felt when he watched Akane’s shoulders heave with each sob.

Hearing the choked sounds she made as she desperately tried to stay quiet, and seeing the way she roughly wiped her face with her tiny hands made his entire being ache. 

He longed to be there with her, to take her into his arms and pull her toward him, to squeeze tightly enough that she knew she’d never be alone, or and to tell her that she would be alright. But he couldn’t, not when that would only risk both of their lives.

Still, he wanted to do something. 

It wasn’t until he saw her reaching for the plush spy teddy he’d gifted her that he knew what he could do, and though it would give the bear away as a spy tool, he knew it would be worth it.

He grabbed his headset and put it on, thin fingers pressing the button on the ear piece before returning to his keyboard.

“A-Akane-chan, it’s m-me, Ts-Tsuku-nii.” he said softly, heart beating wildly in his ears. Akane didn’t respond, but the pressure sensors inside the toy indicated that she was hugging it more tightly.

“Akane-ch-chan, it’s g-going to b-be a-alright. I’m h-here.”

His fingers danced along the keyboard as he controlled the bear, the small skeleton inside it coming to life. Its tiny head tilted upward and grazed her cheek, planting a very small kiss on the damp skin.

“I w-won’t leave. I-It will b-be alright.”


	16. Psy420/Tsukumoya (SFW) (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken from my Tsukumoya RP blog, so uh, context and such. Anyhoo, au where both Psy and Tsukumoya are human.

Tsukumoya had never been good with self reflection, which meant that he’d never been good with people. Online, he could make or break people, or become popular or unpopular as he saw fit, but in person, he always seemed to struggle.

That wasn’t to say that he was lonely, though. No, he did possess one friend who he knew would always be there, no matter how unintentionally rude or forward he was. 

He had met Psy when he’d transferred to his high school a few years earlier. Psy was a foreign student, new to Japan, and had been told to sit by Tsukumoya’s desk. The brunette had, at first, thought that the other student was a delinquent because of his hair, but after an embarrassingly long time, he soon learned it was natural.

Not that he believed that until he saw Psy’s leg hair.

The pair had become fast friends during their high school years, which Tsukumoya was eternally grateful for. It was around this time that Tsukumoya began to experience certain medical troubles, and he was glad to have someone to share them with.

Though he never became ill, Psy never seemed to think Tsukumoya was lying about his elevated heart rate, his flushing, or the strange feeling in his stomach. Psy would only be sympathetic, often wishing him luck in beating the symptoms that only seemed to appear when he was nearby.

It wasn’t until Tsukumoya was in college that he realised what those symptoms meant. He’d studied for years, trying to find a diagnosis, but it was in a chatroom that he found the answer. Maybe, just _maybe,_ he was in love.

The realisation hit him hard. It made sense, which didn’t make sense. He’d always known that he liked Psy, and that he was mesmerized by the way he would speak, or the small smiles or frustrated frowns. But to think that a crush could become this serious was almost frightening. 

He need to test it out.

* * *

He waited until he knew Psy would be free and snuck up behind him. It was never a difficult thing to do, as the foreigner was always listening to his headphones. Psy was resting his face on his elbows with his eyes closed when Tsukumoya approached him, and the brunette pet his hair gently to alert him to his presence.

The blond jumped slightly, pulling away from Tsukumoya’s hand before smiling at him. Tsukumoya experienced another Psy-induced dizzy spell at that, and almost fell backward. Luckily, Psy was there to stop him from falling, but that only made the symptoms grow worse.

“M-my h-ho-ouse. T-t-to-to-t-o-on-nnight?”

Psy gave him a quizzical look but nodded, smiling even brighter. He never questioned Tsukumoya’s occasionally disjointed sentences, and seemed to just enjoy listening to him speak.

Tsukumoya smiled back at him before wriggling away, running off to prepare his apartment for his guest.

* * *

When Psy arrived, Tsukumoya’s stomach felt as though it were being dropped from a cliff. Whether Psy noticed the intense blush on Tsukumoya’s face was debatable, but the blond didn’t say a thing if he did.

Tsukumoya ushered him in and guided him to the couch, then sat as far away from him as possible. For the first time in their friendship, there was a long and uncomfortable silence.

“I-I… S-so-someth-thing I w-want t-to-to d-do…” Tsukumoya finally stuttered, his hands twisting in his lap nervously.

Psy looked at him sweetly, having no idea the effect he was having by simply being there. “What is it?”

Tsukumoya looked up, but that only made things worse. Psy’s eyes were too piercing, too green, and too wide.

He threw up a hand, gesturing to ask Psy to hold that thought, and ran to his bedroom. He sorted through his drawers quickly until he found the small scarf he was looking. He tripped as he ran back out but picked himself up easily enough, then sat a little closer on the couch beside Psy.

Psy’s confusion was clear on his face, and Tsukumoya felt even dizzier.

“What’s that?”

“A-A sc-scar-arf… I-I… c-can I-I d-d-do s-so-someth-thing?”

Psy nodded, smiling at his nervous friend.

“I-I… ne-need t-to bli-blindf-f-ff-fff…fff-”

“Okay. I trust you.”

Tsukumoya smiled a tiny smile in appreciation, then leaned forward. It was hard to blindfold Psy when his hands were shaking this much, but the blond was patient. After some minutes (and Psy’s help with the knot), the deed was done, and Tsukumoya leaned back slightly.

Psy’s lips were slightly parted, but his face was still facing Tsukumoya. His fingers were tangled in the legs of his pants, much like the brunettes, but he didn’t seem panicked.

Tsukumoya raised a finger to Psy’s lips but stopped before touching them. He was beautiful, really, and Tsukumoya felt guilty for even _thinking_ about touching them.“Tsu..?”

Slowly and carefully, Tsukumoya dipped his head, his entire body moving closer toward Psy’s. He could feel Psy’s breath, coming a little more quickly now, against his mouth, and he struggled to contain his whine.

He shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t stop either.

He closed the distance, pressing his lips against Psy’s cautiously. He hadn’t kissed anyone before, and he was thrown by how soft Psy’s lips were. The kiss was chaste and quick, and he pulled back after only a few seconds.

“S-so-sorr-rr-r-ry!” He blurted out, then jumped off the couch and bolted for the front door. Psy would surely hate him for this, which hurt even more now that his suspicions were confirmed. He wanted Psy, but now he knew he couldn’t have him.


	17. Akane & Tsukumoya Shinichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another taken from my RP blog, with a slightly older Akane

“I like this one.”  
  
Had Tsukumoya had eyes, he would have rolled them. This was the _fourth_  coffee table that Awakusu Akane had ‘fallen in love with’, and it was _awful_.  
  
They argued, again, and Tsukumoya finally managed to convince her of it’s tackiness ([It looks like one your father owns…]). Breathing a sigh of relief, he watched the world from the tablet Akane held in her grasp as she walked deeper into the store.  
  
He convinced her to aim for chrome and single colours, instead of the tacky patterns reminiscent of her Uncle Akabayashi. Until they hit the lounge section.  
  
“I want _that_  one.”  
  
Akane flung the tablet onto the couch then sat herself down beside it gracefully. She mentioned how comfortable it was, how relaxing, how soft, and all Tsukumoya could see was the pattern.  
  
It was a tan coloured couch with bright yellow sunflowers on it, and it was more hideous than the awful robot-patterned dinnerware she’d threatened to buy.  
  
[No.]  
  
“Why?”  
  
[You’re Awakusu Akane, you can do better.]  
  
“Why?”  
  
[Because.]  
  
“That isn’t a reason, Tsuku-nii.”  
  
[…]  
  
“You’ve picked everything out… and you aren’t even going to be living there…”  
  
[…]  
  
“It’s just a couch…”  
  
[…]  
  
“Oi-chan is _so old_  now… I don’t know.. how long… he-”  
  
[Fine.]  
  
“Fine? Are you sure?”  
  
[I’ll even purchase it for you. Are you happy?]  
  
“Yes!” She smiled, and he realised for the hundredth time that he had never had a chance, “Father will hate it! When he asks where I got it, I’ll pin it on you, okay?”  
  
[…okay.]


	18. Tsukumoya/Izaya (NSFW) (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another from my rp blog, heh. au with human!tsukumoya.

When Tsukumoya had decided to go for a walk with Izaya, he hadn’t actually envisioned this happening. 

Both the men enjoyed people watching, and could observe Tokyo from literally any location and be quite content. Tsukumoya had always watched security footage, rarely venturing out if there was no other reason, so to go on such outings with Izaya was already exciting. 

It was different, to feel the wind on his face, to taste the pollution, and to watch people so closely. His companion certainly made things more fun, with the both of them often going silent and simply enjoying the atmosphere together. 

On this particular day, there were more people around than usual. They moved around like ants, scattering occasionally when certain people moved through the crowds. 

Izaya had quietly taken Tsukumoya what was apparently one of his favourite rooftops. It was lower than the others, and the men could almost make out the facial expressions of those below them. Of course, given that they were so low, anyone looking up would have easily seen them as well.

It wouldn’t have usually been an issue as neither man was doing anything particularly nefarious, but Izaya seemed to want to change that.

Tsukumoya had noticed that Izaya was quieter than usual. He’d spoken, yes, but he hadn’t actually been saying anything. He’d just told Tsukumoya that they were going out, and the older man had followed. 

It was a warning that Tsukumoya had forgotten by the time they’d reached the roof, as he was too entranced by the crowds to think about much else. Even when Izaya had reached over and grabbed his hand, he didn’t think about it. They weren’t the sort to hold hands, but it all felt so natural that it couldn’t have been thought of as strange.

“Do you like watching them so much?”

Izaya’s voice was quiet, as if the people below were fish that might be startled away by his voice. Tsukumoya nodded in return, but kept his eyes on the crowds. There really was something peaceful about the day. 

The informant laughed, apparently unsurprised by Tsukumoya’s reaction. It wasn’t an overly pleasant laugh, as it was the one he’d seemed to trademark, and it made the older man turn his head to look at him.

“Izaya…?”

“Do you want to fuck, Shinichi?”

The hand holding Tsukumoya’s tightened painfully, and before he had a chance to brace himself, he was yanked toward Izaya. The informant grinned, _thrilled_ with how easily Tsukumoya moved, and shoved his back into the concrete barrier. 

Tsukumoya tensed and gripped onto Izaya’s shirt with his free hand, trying not to resist as Izaya pushed his torso onto then over the barrier. They were clearly visible now should anyone look up, and though it looked as though Izaya might be attempting to murder him, it quite obviously wasn’t the case.

“Did you get hard just from hearing me say your name?” Izaya asked, pushing his thigh between Tsukumoya’s legs and chuckling as the writer bucked up against it. “What a disgusting pervert you are, _senpai._ To get hard in public like this!”

Despite knowing better, Tsukumoya continued to move his hips toward Izaya’s, biting his lip harshly in an effort to keep quiet. He didn’t want to be seen, let alone heard, but the informant seemed to want the opposite. 

He leaned in closely, letting his lips brush against Tsukumoya’s as one of his hands slipped into his pants. His index finger swirled around the tip of the writers cock, causing the man to writhe and pant beneath him.

“Would you hate it if I made you cum in front of everyone? You’re so _loud,_ Shinichi. Everyone will hear you saying my name over and over.”

“ _Izaya…_ ”

Tsukumoya’s grip on Izaya loosened slightly, as he was too lost in what that sinful finger was doing to really care about anything else. His eyes became half lidded, and he watch Izaya watch him.

“You’re so cr-cruel.”

Izaya smirked, apparently happy with how Tsukumoya was reacting. With one hand, he managed to unzip Tsukumoya’s pants and pull his erection out, pumping it languidly as the writer continued to melt and whimper.

“Sit down on the edge.”

Tsukumoya’s eyes widened slightly at the instruction, unable to believe what he’d heard. “I’ll fall.”

“You won’t.” The teasing in Izaya’s voice was all but gone, and he released Tsukumoya’s hand in favour of unzipping his own pants. It was a little hard to do, given that neither man had stopped holding hands, but he managed to shimmy them down enough regardless. “I prepped for this, so sit down.”

“I-” The writer was cut off when he was shoved slightly backward, and he moved himself up and onto the ledge. He felt as though he might fall at any time, but there was a strong chance that Izaya might actually push him over if he didn’t listen.

“Good. That wasn’t _so_ hard, was it?” The informant clambered up after Tsukumoya, awkwardly arranging himself with no regard for the other mans fears. 

To his credit, Tsukumoya didn’t panic, knowing that Izaya wouldn’t put them _both_ in any real danger, but he squeezed the hand holding his anyway. His other hand went straight to Izaya’s ass, more out of habit than anything, and he squeezed it roughly.

“Did you bring any lu-” The sentence was cut short by a suffocating heat enveloping Tsukumoya’s cock, swallowing it whole and causing him to cry out. Izaya really had taken care of everything, it seemed, and Tsukumoya would later decide that he might underestimate Izaya more than he means to.

“You’re so _loud._ ” Izaya whispered, waiting for himself to adjust. “Do you want them to see you fucking me like this?”

Tsukumoya tried to answer, but the words turned into a low moan instead as the informant clenched around him. 

“Are you going to cum inside me and make me walk home like this?” Izaya rolled his hips, biting back the sounds that rattled around in his throat. “Do you like the idea of your cum dripping down my legs?”

The growl that elicited was loud enough for people below to hear, though no one fortunately thought to look up. The _superior_ informants hand released Izaya’s, moving straight to his ass and gripping it hard enough to leave bruises.

Izaya laughed, rolling his hips quickly so that he could slam himself down onto Tsukumoya’s cock. His own erection rubbed up against the other mans stomach, taunting it as the soft fabric of the hoodie brushed against it. 

It felt good, better than he’d imagined, especially when he could look over Tsukumoya’s shoulder at all the people down below. So absorbed in their own lives, they never thought about what might be happening around them. The fact that they _still_ hadn’t noticed what was happening so close to them mixed with Tsukumoya’s now incredibly enthusiastic help, and Izaya felt powerful.

Only _he_ could turn Tsukumoya into this lustful mess, and only _he_ could fuck him in public without getting caught. 

“ _Izaya._ ” 

The informant was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of his name being growled, and he looked down at Tsukumoya. They didn’t say anything, only looking at each other until the older man leaned forward and crashed their lips together. 

Izaya smirked into it, moving his hips faster as his hands weaved through Tsukumoya’s hair, pulling at it until the latter was practically screaming into his mouth. 

Tsukumoya finished shortly after, his face moving into the crook of Izaya’s neck to bite down as he usually did. Thought Izaya couldn’t _hear_ it, he knew that Tsukumoya was mumbling his name into his skin over and over. 

After a few moments, he climbed off Tsukumoya’s lap and sighed dramatically. 

“You didn’t finish.”

“You weren’t very good.”

“You surprised me.”

“And you were selfish. Did you really think that you could have me finish without touching me?”

Tsukumoya shrugged, tucking himself back into his pants before zipping himself up. Izaya only stood there watching, wondering what Tsukumoya might do next. Usually, he’d try to finish him, but given that they were in public, it might be different. 

He hadn’t really expected Tsukumoya to kneel down in front of him, and yet there he was. 

“Don’t hold yourself back. If you take too long, I’ll get hard again.”

With that, Tsukumoya took Izaya into his mouth, letting his tongue run along the shaft as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. Izaya ran his fingers through Tsukumoya’s hair, pulling lightly on it occasionally and relishing the moans that vibrated against his dick.

He looked out at the crowd below as Tsukumoya sucked him off, smiling to himself until a finger pushed into his ass. It ripped soft voices from his throat, and he tried and failed to stop himself from thrusting into Tsukumoya’s mouth and back onto the finger. 

He finished quickly, the feeling of Tsukumoya swallowing him dragging out the sensation for longer than it had any right to be. His knees felt weak and his body was drained, and he _almost_ thought to say thank you to Tsukumoya for pulling up his pants. 

Almost.

“You’re such a pervert, Tsukumoya.”

He received no answer, save for the hand on his lower back that guided him closer to the ledge. He leaned against it with his eyes half closed, and sighed happily to himself. It would be a perfect day if only Tsukumoya managed to keep his mouth shut for a little longer.


	19. Tsukumoya/Izaya (NSFW) (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annnd another from the rp blog, and another human!tsukumoya au

Visiting Orihara Izaya always had its fair share of risks. The man was incredibly dangerous, selfish, childish, and impulsive (though he’d likely argue that it was ‘adaptability’ or some such), which meant that Tsukumoya might walk in on literally anything.

He could always check the several security cameras in Izaya’s building before going so that he’d have an idea of what to expect, but truthfully, he enjoyed the unpredictability of it all. It wasn’t as though the informant wouldn’t let Tsukumoya know if something untoward were happening anyway.

Then again, that same informant _had_ sent him a rather interesting message. When Tsukumoya had questioned (subtly) Izaya on whether he could visit the other man (not because he enjoyed his company, but because he was bored), that latter had taken at least four minutes to reply and had been far too enthusiastic about the whole thing.

    [I’m a little tied up but if you think you can handle that, then be my guest.]

There was _definitely_ something suspicious about that message, but Tsukumoya had no idea what it could be.

Until he walked in.

The lights weren’t turned on, which gave the apartment an ominous sort of feeling an Tsukumoya frowned slightly, wondering if he’d been had. It was possible that the informant was just messing with him and wasn’t even _at_ his apartment, but it didn’t feel quite right.

He pulled out his phone and squinted at the too-bright screen, then called Izaya’s number (which _definitely_ wasn’t number 1 on his speed dial). It took a moment for him to hear it ringing through his handset, and another for him to hear the irritating ringtone Izaya had picked for him coming from up the stairs.

“…”

He ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket as he took the stairs two at a time, wondering just what it was that Izaya was up to. It was unlikely that he’d been attacked or that this were all some sort of trap to locate Tsukumoya, but he steeled himself regardless. If Izaya had been caught by someone, then Tsukumoya wouldn’t have much hope either, but at least the two of them would have some sort of chance if they were together.

Once he reached the top, he slowly and carefully made his way to Izaya’s bedroom. There was a light shining from inside, lighting up the doorway, and he took a moment to brace himself before entering. 

The room seemed safe enough as he glanced around it, his eyes travelling so quickly over everything that he almost missed the bed.

Almost.

“O-Ori-… Izaya?”

The informant smirked up at him from the bed, his body on full display and arms and legs bound loosely. _How_ he’d managed to tie himself there was a mystery, and it made Tsukumoya wonder if he really was alone. Had he interrupted something? Why would Izaya say it was fine to come over if he had?

“Ar-”

“I’m alone.”

“Ho-”

“I’m _very_ talented, _Shinichi._ It wasn’t difficult to tie myself up.”

“…wh-”

“Why not?”

Tsukumoya pouted, both unhappy that he apparently wasn’t allowed to finish a sentence (or even a word) and happy that he didn’t have to. He looked around the room again and spied a folded blanket on the ground beside the bed. Walking over to it quickly, he picked it up and draped it over Izaya.

He looked down at him with a concerned look, then moved to straddle him. It was slightly uncomfortable, given that he’d at some point become hard (Izaya _was_ naked and tied to a bed), and he leaned down as if he were kissing Izaya’s ear.

“ _Is there someone else here?_ ”

The informant laughed loudly, his entire body shaking. Was the writer just being cautious, or was it that he didn’t believe that Izaya would give him ‘gifts’?

“It’s just you and I, Tsukumoya.”

Tsukumoya nodded and pressed his face into Izaya’s neck, not entirely sure of what he was supposed to be doing. Was it some sort of sexual play, or something else? Had this been done for him, or-

“Izaya, I d-don’t-”

Izaya cut him off with a tired sigh, wriggling slightly beneath Tsukumoya’s body. “I thought you’d like it if I were tied up. Maybe now, you won’t finish _quite_ as fast.”

“…”

“If you don’t like it, then I could always ask someone else.”

Stiffening slightly, Tsukumoya pulled back so that he could look Izaya in the eye. “You could, but you won’t.”

Izaya smirked, but it came out looking more like a self-satisfied grin. “You sound so sure of yourself! You really are a pervert. Don’t tell me that you were feigning innocence to lower my defences?”

Definitely _not_ pouting, Tsukumoya moved himself further up so that he was in a seated position. His fingers ghosted over Izaya’s chest, gripping the top of the blanket he’d put there before pulling it down. 

He’d always liked Izaya’s chest and stomach. The skin was _slightly_ darker than his own but still pale, a stark contrast to the small hickey he’d left on Izaya’s waist last time. It was slightly faded now, only visible because Tsukumoya knew where to look.

“You tied yourself to a bed when you knew I’d be coming to visit.” He said quietly as he raked his fingernails lightly over Izaya’s stomach, relishing in the not so subtle shudder that ran through the informants body. “I think you might be the pervert and _I_ may be the innocent one.”

Izaya laughed a little but the sound came out strained. He was going to reply with more than the stuttered breath that left him, but was cut off by Tsukumoya’s lips.

He’d never liked kissing that much, especially not the soft sort that Tsukumoya seemed to enjoy giving him, but he wouldn’t have pushed him away even if he could. Kissing seemed to be one of the writers kinks, he reasoned, so he could _maybe_ bear with it.

A low moan rattled around in his throat despite himself when his lip was bitten, the pressure of it alternating between almost too painful and almost too light. It distracted Izaya from the sound of a zipper and the blanket being kicked further down, but not from the sensation of Tsukumoya’s erection being pressed up against his own.

Izaya was already laughing by the time Tsukumoya pulled back, happy to know that Tsukumoya had done what he’d wanted so easily. Any thoughts he’d had about wanting to tug at the other mans dark mop of hair were ignored, and he arched himself as much as he could. 

“It’s a good thing that I’m already prepared. You’re so eager that you might have forgotten and torn me apart!”

The _superior_ informant ignored him, looking down at Izaya with a blush on his cheeks and a thoughtful expression.

He could do _anything_ to Izaya.

 _Anything_ he wanted.

And Izaya could do _nothing_ in retaliation.

“…”

For the first time since this encounter had begun, Izaya truly started to feel as though he were tied up. The look on Tsukumoya’s face was troubling, and he felt as though he’d made a miscalculation somewhere.

“Ts-”

“I want you to try and break free.” Tsukumoya interrupted, running his hands over Izaya’s abdomen. “But you aren’t allowed to run off.”

“You’re so kinky! Would you like me to cry and say I hate it as well?”

“No.”

“You don’t want to take advantage of me?”

“No… Yes, but if you don’t enjoy it then neither will I.”

They stared at each other for a moment, as if both were trying to understand what Tsukumoya had said.

“You’ll struggle anyway, and I’m not going to fuck you until you’re nails are on my back.”

“Do you really like pain so much that you can’t keep it up otherwise?”

Tsukumoya blushed a little harder. “No, but I w-won’t know that you like it unless-”

“Fine. But you won’t have long.” Izaya sighed, testing the binding at his wrists. He’d play along for now if it made Tsukumoya do something other than stare at him.

“Good.”

With that, the older informant shifted, settling himself between Izaya’s legs as his cock pushed against the apparently prepared entrance. His head dipped to the crook of Izaya’s neck, his tongue running across the skin slowly. 

Izaya arched his back, not struggling at all as he felt Tsukumoya’s dick _almost_ push inside of him. “I thought you weren’t planning on fucking me until I escaped?”

Tsukumoya laughed cruelly into Izaya’s neck, sending shivers down the latters spine. “ _I’m not._ ”

He bit down on the skin, pulling his hips back slightly as Izaya’s moved up. Grinning, he laughed again at Izaya’s reactions, and started to lick, suck, and bite his way down Izaya’s body, leaving as many marks as he could now that he couldn’t be stopped.

Izaya started to struggle a little more fervently once Tsukumoya reached his nipples, an annoyed moan escaping him despite himself when teeth brushed over one. It would be easy enough to free himself, given that he’d ensured he could beforehand, but it was becoming harder to think clearly.

“ _Izaya…_ ” Tsukumoya’s nails grazed along the informants lower stomach as their eyes met. “Is there anything you would like?”

There were a lot of things Izaya would like, but he didn’t feel like sharing. “No.”

“Is there anything you want to do to me?”

“…no.”

Tsukumoya chuckled to himself as he moved further down, abandoning Izaya’s nipples after blowing a little cool air onto them. Anything the informant might have wanted to say was soon cut off by his genuine sounding moan once Tsukumoya reached his waist.

It was his weak spot, both of them knew that, and now that Izaya was immobile, Tsukumoya could take his time with it. His lips ghosted against the soft skin, tongue darting out swirl circles as Izaya writhed. 

It was unfair and cruel, but it always gave the best reactions.

He moved along his waist horizontally, his chin bumping into the head of Izaya’s erection as he nipped the skin _just_ above it. Izaya tried to arch again, but was held firmly in place when Tsukumoya’s hands moved to his hips.

“Stay still.”

“..!”

Izaya started to struggle properly now, hating that Tsukumoya still had his composure. He wanted to pull at his hair and hear the groan that always came along with it, but instead he was being relentlessly teased.

A series of hickeys in various shapes and colours littered Izaya’s abdomen by the time Tsukumoya was through, and though he _wanted_ to leave more, he wasn’t sure that Izaya wouldn’t kill him for it later.

Tilting his face, he watched as Izaya struggled with the ropes, making them tighter instead of releasing them. He smirked, happy with Izaya’s progress, then dipped his head back down to slowly lick Izaya’s cock from base to tip.

“Do you need some help?”

“N-No!” Izaya bit his tongue, regretting the stutter immediately. 

Tsukumoya chuckled again, then took the tip of Izaya’s cock into his mouth, sucking and licking at it enthusiastically before spitting it back out.

“I wonder if I can make you cum without that?”

If looks could kill, Izaya would be a murderer, as the look he shot Tsukumoya was anything but kind.

“If you ask me nicely then I might keep going.”

Izaya squirmed a little more, managing to get _some_ give in the rope as he used his most pleasant voice to reply. “Please, Shinichi-senpai! Please suck my cock!”

The older man laughed, leaning down to kiss the tip before pushing himself further down between Izaya’s legs. “No.”

Truth be told, Tsukumoya could barely stop himself from pushing into Izaya. Hearing his name said so casually made his cock twitch and his breathing ragged, and his nails dug deeper into Izaya’s hips. But they had a deal, of sorts, and he wasn’t about to let Izaya get out of it.

He let out a pleased hum as he spread Izaya’s legs further, watching as the lubricant dripped out of him. There were very few things that Tsukumoya would prefer to do over running his tongue over all of Izaya’s insides, but he restrained himself.

“You did this just for me?” He asked, but the question came out as more of a possessive growl. 

Izaya either didn’t hear or pretended not to, as the implication was suddenly too embarrassing. He pulled at his bonds a little more, managing to _finally_ break his legs free. 

“Good work, Izay-.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Tsukumoya moved his head between Izaya’s thighs, licking at the skin at their apex. Izaya’s legs spread further despite himself, soft noises slipping out from between his lips as he struggled with the ropes. 

This teasing was too cruel and Tsukumoya was far too level headed, he decided, and he needed to change that. He managed to think clearly enough (despite what Tsukumoya was doing) to glance up at his bonds, and realised that he’d tied them to the headboard together and not separately.

An idea popped into his head, and he barely stopped himself from laughing.

“Ts-Tsukumoya… ki-kiss me.”

Tsukumoya stopped his licking, face turning red at Izaya’s request. It had to be a trap, he knew that, but he couldn’t say he really cared. He moved up quickly, crashing his lips into Izaya’s as his hands gripped the still bound wrists. 

The kiss was violent and passionate, with Tsukumoya quickly losing himself in it. Izaya was nipping him and running their tongues together, and it was so intoxicating that Tsukumoya hadn’t realised that he’d been flipped to his back until something warm and wet started suffocating his dick.

He tried to pull away from Izaya’s lips, but that only made him moan Izaya’s name more audibly as the other man sank himself onto Tsukumoya’s cock. Izaya pulled himself back, crooked lips and self satisfied eyes mocking Tsukumoya.

Izaya was still tied to the bed, and his wrists were pulled out in front of them, but he’d managed to flip them over and take matters into his own hands. It had been so unexpected that Tsukumoya couldn’t stop the flood of curses, groans, and whimpers that left him.

He wasn’t going to last, not with this sensation coupled with _this view,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. The marks he’d left of Izaya made him twitch and jolt, and the sight of Izaya’s erection bouncing up and down on top of him-

“ _Izaya,_ I’m… c-close.” He admitted, despite the fact they’d only been fucking for a under a minute, “Feels…”

His hand moved to Izaya’s cock, squeezing it firmly before awkwardly pumping it. It was out of time and had no real rhythm, but it made Izaya tighten around him. 

He _had_ been teased mercilessly for some time already, so it wasn’t unexpected.

As Izaya picked up the pass, slamming himself onto Tsukumoya’s cock, his breathing became heavier and heavier. Tsukumoya’s hand, though awkward, felt _good_ and he felt himself drawing dangerously close to the finish.

“Shinichi-” He murmured, moving more erratically. “ _Cum for me._ ”

Tsukumoya’s eyes locked onto Izaya’s and his mouth dropped slightly, a lewd and unguarded groan leaking out in the form of Izaya’s name as he did as commanded. His hips snapped up as he pumped Izaya’s cock a little more quickly, and he released himself into Izaya’s ass.

Izaya finished shortly after, enjoying the power he apparently had over Tsukumoya far too much. He bucked into the palm holding him, spraying himself over the older informants chest as his body became rigid. 

He fell forward onto Tsukumoya shortly after, reasoning that it was because he couldn’t move anywhere else when he was tied up like this. As both men tried to catch their breath, he ignored the arm that draped itself over his lower back. It would be fine… for now.


	20. Erika & Tsukumoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erika and Tsukumoya are up to no good (more rp blog things)

The first time it happened, Erika had taken her phone into a very quiet corner of Animate and set it to vibrate. She didn’t want the two of them to be caught, but she couldn’t hold herself back any longer. Tsukumoya, honestly, was possibly in an even worse state, and was feeling desperate.

The second time it happened, Izaya had been forced to watch. He wasn’t restrained, but he couldn’t seem to leave either, a curious and terrified look painting his features as he watched Erika and her phone get down to business. Neither Erika nor Tsukumoya minded his prying eyes, both knowing that Izaya was powerless to stop it, let alone join in.

The third and fourth time happened both at once, one after the other. It had left Erika breathless, as she’d been forced to sprint from the coffee shop they’d done _it_ in once they’d been discovered. This time they’d been caught on camera, but Tsukumoya had made sure to remove that evidence (and had kept a copy for himself). 

It would come in handy in the future, to put Erika in the mood if she weren’t feeling up to it. She really did enjoy visual aids.

The fifth time was in the back of Togusa’s van. Walker had wanted to join in and, after a series of discussions, Erika and Tsukumoya decided to open up with relationship to include the otaku. The trio had, after many talks, decided that they were going to target Shizuo this time.

It was high risk, but given the man’s stamina, it was also high reward.

Erika went first, being the fastest to get off of the three and the only one who could repeat the action multiple times. She and Tsukumoya had fallen into a groove with all the practice they’d been getting, and the trio was sure that nothing could go wrong.

They’d do it the way they always had, only this time they had another, physical man to help out. 

She leapt from the back of the van and gripped her phone as she walked over to the alleyway beside Shizuo. He hadn’t seen her, but the threat of being caught was almost too much to bear.

Walker went next, positioning himself behind a tree. He dug a hand into his pants, grasping his piece tightly. 

It was his first time, but he was sure he could keep up.

Tsukumoya stood by, watching like a voyeur from the security cameras. On his command, the otakus positioned themselves, preparing to drag Shizuo into their tryst, when-

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

Shizuo’s roar was loud enough to rattle the windows as he looked at the otaku’s. In hindsight, they hadn’t hidden themselves very well, but it was impossible to hid from their next target.

Erika and Walker dropped with water guns, knowing when to retreat from a fight, and hightailed it back to Togusa’s van. Erika cackled as she ran, almost tripping in her skirt several times as Tsukumoya sent her panicked messages.

“STOP FUCKIN’ AROUND, I KNOW IT’S YOU WHO’S BEEN SPRAYING DYE ON PEOPLE! APOLOGISE TO THE MANUFACTURER’S!”


	21. Rubi (alt)/ Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ???

The blonde was sitting in his living room, nursing a lukewarm cup of cocoa and nervously staring at the clock. It was late, too late for him to be awake, but he couldn’t seem to make himself sleep. Not when he knew who would be visiting him later.

It was always the same. Rubi was by no means a pushover but he couldn’t help but let the man who’d be visiting him do as he pleased. There were no strings attached, no whispered promises and they both knew it would only happen once every so often.

Still, Rubi convinced himself he didn’t mind.

He didn’t feel used or abandoned whenever he woke up the next day, alone in his now too-large bed. He didn’t feel hurt when he didn’t hear from his lover, and he didn’t feel jealous even though he knew he probably wasn’t the only one this man visited.

No, he was better than that. This meant nothing.

He took a sip from his cocoa, barely even tasting the blend of chocolate and cinnamon. It was when he checked the clock for what must have been the fifteenth time that minute that he heard it-

Ding, ding, ding.

The sound of bells had him startled, almost dropping his half-empty mug on the floor. He ran a shaking hand through his dyed blonde locks and rose from his position on the couch, turning to face the chimney.

A thud and a cloud of smoke filled the apartment and he smiled for a moment, happy that his lover had come for him.

“Have you been a good boy this year, Rubi?” Santa asked as he straightened his back, his present already making itself known in his tight red pants.

“No,” Rubi said, taking a step forward, “I’ve been very naughty.”

The pair shared a nostalgic smile before embracing. Even if it was only once a year, it was worth the pain of separation.


	22. Erika & Tsukumoya (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More rp blog drabbles!

It was late December, at the awkward time of non-celebration that fell between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. The air was cold, ravaging the lungs of anyone unlucky enough to be outside or without a heater.

Though Erika was (to the surprise of all who knew her) quite good at sticking to her budget, she was one of the unfortunate souls without any heating in her small apartment. Her heater, an item that was well looked after ever since she was a child, had finally passed away, leaving her cold and alone.

She’d attempted to find a new one, but given the time of year such a thing was both impossible and outside of her budget. Instead, she wrapped herself in the few blankets she had and tried to take her mind off it.

It must have been after midnight when she heard the thump at her door, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a vacuum cleaner, then another knock. He held her breath, straining her ears as she listened for any more movement.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she didn’t live in the safest of neighbourhoods, so this was quite concerning.

The sound of her phone vibrating beside her caused her to jump, frantic hands slapping at it in an effort to quieten it. There was no movement from outside her door at the noise, so she slowly unlocked her phone and checked the messages. If it were Yumasaki, Kadota, or Togusa then she could ask them to stop by.

**[Tsukuchii]**

_I’m outside. Please open the door._

“Huh?”

**[Tsukuchii]**

_Leave the chain on the door and look down._

Erika thought about replying but decided against it, and curiosity forced her out of her blanket cocoon and toward the door. She did as instructed, leaving the chain on the door before opening it barely an inch and looking down.

She laughed, a huge smile on her face as she closed and unchained the door. When she opened it again, she opened it wide enough for the [Zumba](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZvvgWLBCRyw&t=MTY5MmRhMWUzOTU3Yzg1Y2E3MTc1NTc1OGNmOGI0YjFiNjViZjg1NSxsalpTYkRPWA%3D%3D) to drive in.

It parked a few feet away from her, and she received another message on her phone.

**[Tsukuchii]**

_Please take the paper bag off the vacuum cleaner. You can keep the bag, its contents, and the vacuum. I’ll have a charger mailed to you._

**[Erika-senpai]**

_Did you get me a present?!_

**[Tsukuchii]**

_Something like that._

Erika closed and locked the door, then plucked the bag off the Zumba. Inside it, she found several pairs of gloves and mittens, a pair of woollen socks, and two long scarves. She took them out happily, inspecting them with a smile on her face before putting them on.

**[Tsukuchii]**

_I hope they’re acceptable. You looked cold._

**[Erika-senpai]**

_I love them! Thanks!_

**[Tsukuchii]**

_It’s nnothinng. Sleep well, Erika-chan._


	23. Psyche & Tsukumoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major character death.

Tsukumoya was hungry. Despite the fact that he’d never physically had a need to eat, his hunger was almost overpowering. It was all eat could think about after meeting Psyche, an android with the same likeness of Orihara Izaya, and it was interrupting his work.

He needed to eat and felt as though he was starving, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. It wasn’t until he was speaking with Psyche that he realised what he was craving, but he fought his instincts and tried to distance himself.

  
Tsukumoya Shinichi was a being that devoured information, spitting out random snippets like bones whenever he pleased. He’d never felt hungry before, so he hadn’t been aware of this fact until it became overwhelming.   
  
Psyche began to take over his thoughts. He wondered what the android was doing, seeing, hearing, learning. His non-existent mouth watered at the idea of the android becoming even juicer, and he was soon unable to stop himself.  
  
He waited until Psyche entered his chatroom, speaking to him as normally as he could. Unfortunately, the android was able to see something was off with him. Psyche didn’t leave though, too kind or naïve to realise he was in danger, and instead attempted to help.  
  
 **Kanra 2.0  
** Tsukumoya? What’s wrong?  
  
 **Tsukumoya Shinichi  
** Everything is fine.  
  
 **Kanra 2.0  
** Are you sure?  
  
 **Tsukumoya Shinichi  
** …  
  
 **Kanra 2.0  
** Do you need some help?  
  
 **Tsukumoya Shinichi  
** Can you sing to me?  
  
 **Tsukumoya Shinichi  
** Plug yourself in so I can hear it.  
  
  
Confusion was painted all over Psyche’s face. He’d never needed to plug himself into the computer in order for Tsukumoya to hear him, but he brushed the thought aside. Perhaps Tsukumoya was having technical difficulties that prevented him from otherwise hearing?  
  
He wasted no time in plugging himself in, singing a slow song usually reserved for when Izaya couldn’t sleep. Tsukumoya salivated, the music only making him hungrier, as part of him slipped through the USB cable and inside the android.  
  
Psyche stuttered slightly but continued to sing, he felt strange but couldn’t figure out why and decided to run a scan as he sung only to find that it wouldn’t work. He tried to speak, but the internal processor that allowed him to turn thoughts into sound didn’t appear to work.  
  
He thought of running, of ripping out the cable, but his arms wouldn’t listen to him. The only thing he could do was sing or stay silent, so he sang even louder.  
  
Tsukumoya began to eat him from the inside, draining him of his knowledge and memories painfully. There was no way to do it without agony, but he was brutal in his assault, too far gone to care about Psyche’s well-being. He had only intended to eat a fraction of him but went insane with the taste of what Psyche had experience in the outside world.  
  
Psyche wanted to scream, face contorting in pain as he artificial intelligence was being eaten. The pain was only amplified by the fact that he was brutally aware now of what was happening to him. He knew he was being eaten and that he would die, that he would never be able to sing again.  
  
He kept singing, louder and louder, wishing that Izaya would wake up and save him. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to forget the precious things he’d almost engraved into his memory, but it was leaving him as quickly as he thought of it.  
  
He heard footsteps from above him sluggishly moving toward the staircase, and he managed a small smile. Izaya had woken up, most likely angry at the noise, and was coming downstairs to scold him. Surely he’d get here in time, he’d save him and he’d never forge-  
  
Psyche stopped singing as Izaya moved down the stairs, eyes half shut with sleep and a frown on his face. Tsukumoya moved back into the computer and deleted the chat logs, disgusted with himself. By the time Izaya reached the computer and had noticed the husk of what Psyche once was, it was already too late.  
  
Izaya peered at the computer, confused to find an open word document. Tsukumoya, feeling guilty because of what he’d done, had decided to type Psyche’s last thoughts for Izaya.  
  
 _I’m sorry I won’t be able to sing you back to sleep after waking you. Sweet dreams._


	24. Slon, an OC, and Tsukumoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taken from my RP blog. au where an oc (temgreen) works as a lackey of sorts for tsukumoya. c:

“У тебя́ о́чень ма́ленький хуй!” Slon yelled, still unsure of how he got himself into this mess and without a clue on how to get himself out of it. “Xуесо́с! ёб твою́ мать!”

He’d only recently become this way- swinging wildly between Japanese and Russian, seeminglyunaware that he was even doing it. Maybe it was because he was actually swinging? Who could tell anymore.

It had all started a few days earlier. Slon had finally “tracked Tsukumoya down,” and had somehow been convinced to go out drinking. Of course, it hadn’t _really_ been Tsukumoya(1), but Slon had never _asked_ if it was.

No, Slon had burst in, a mixture of pointing fingers and a slightly cracked voice, and had _assumed_ it was Tsukumoya, despite the fact that “Tsukumoya” looked quite feminine.(2)

It really wasn’t relevant now though, not when Slon was in his current situation. 

“Я, бля, зна́ю где ты живёшь!”He threatened once again, wincing slightly at the loudness of his own voice. Slon hadn’t been this hungover in years, and could barely remember the previous three days.(3)

It was all a blur of vodka and something pink and fruity. A cocktail, he thought, though he never actually asked what it was.(4) He’d simply drunk it down and asked for more, as he secretly enjoyed the taste.

He probably should have noticed that “Tsukumoya” wasn’t drinking, but with all the tiny umbrellas it was hardly surprising. They were a choking hazard, Slon decided, before attempting to prove it by putting as many as he can fit into his mouth.

It’s the last thing he remembers, which is probably why he was angered to see one still in his pocket.

He’d gone there to kill Tsukumoya, and he could not figure out why he didn’t. Was it because the man offered him a drink? Because he asked him to murder him on the tiles so that the houses resale value wouldn’t dip too much? Maybe it was because he told him he was going to watch himself get murdered in the mirror.

Slon had always been quite forward thinking when compared to his peers, but even he couldn’t reconcile killing a man if being murdered was his fetish. It just rubbed him the wrong way, so he did the more mature thing and asked if they could have a drink instead. He desperately needed a drink, because he didn’t want to be sober when helping another man experience his fetish, no matter how womanly they looked.

The first drink had hit him harder than it should have, but “Tsukumoya” had seemed fine. Challenged, Slon kept drinking until he could no longer walk, let alone notice that “Tsukumoya” was drinking water.(5)

By the time Slon had woken up, he was already in the net, suspended from the middle of the underside of a large bridge. He could easily break out, but he wasn’t totally sure that a fall into the cool water below. From this height, it was possible that the fall would kill him, but he wasn’t totally sure. 

He missed Vorona. Vorona wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped, and she’d definitely know whether escaping would kill him.

“Хуй тебе́! в жо́пу!” He yelled again, not really caring about how much his net was swaying. If he fell then he fell, and he’d just come back to haunt Tsukumoya after he died. He was _pretty_ sure he could do that, but again, he wasn’t positive.

The net swayed again, this time far more violently. Slon looked up in time to see “Tsukumoya” crouching near the knot at the top, a machete poised next to the rope as they stared at him.

“Ни хуя́ себе́!?“

“English or Japanese?”

“That was Japanese!”

“That was gobbledygook.” Tsukumoya 2.0 frowned at that, placing a finger over their ear as they mumbled something quietly.

A headset?

“Who’re you talking to? Are you Tsukumoya or not?”

The person stopped talking, choosing instead to run the blade of the machete along the rope. “Who else would I be?”

“…”

“If you quack like a duck, I’ll help you up.”

“Отъеби́сь!”(6) Slon seethed. All he wanted were some painkillers, but here he was, _suspended in midair while some shit told him to quack._ “I’ll find you again.”

“You won’t, not unless we leave you another trail.”

“”We”?!”

“Oops! Said to much!” The impersonator stood up and buried a hand in their pocket, rummaging around for a moment before pulling something out. They tossed it down the the snared Russian, who caught it skeptically in his hands.

If guns were illegal in Japan, it was unlikely it would be a grenade.

“Use that to get yourself out, and find yourself a sponsor, Elephant-man. You drank so much it was like you were in denial or something. You miss that giraffe that much? Don’t worry, we made sure to send him lots of photos.”(7)

“Иди́ отсюда́ на́ хуй, манда́!”

Laughing, the impersonator left. Slon looked at the object he’d been dropped and was thankful to find that it was a pocket knife. It seemed sharp enough to cut the net, which meant that he’d be able to sneak out the top and climb the rope to the top.

However, given its size, he knew that Tsukumoya would be long gone by the time he’d freed himself. As he cut the ropes, he decided on two things: He’d kill Tsukumoya at least seven times, and he’d cut back on his drinking.


	25. Tsukumoya and Izaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major character death. Another from my rp blog.

Tsukumoya had been watching Orihara Izaya through his webcam when the thought struck him. It came as a surprise that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. It was so obvious, but he never really thought much about himself so perhaps that’s why it had slipped under the radar for so long. Still, it was an undeniable fact.

Tsukumoya Shinichi hated Orihara Izaya. 

If he had blood, it would surely be boiling at the humans’ smug expression. The way his fingers danced across the keyboard, needing to manually type what he wanted to say. The way his chest rose and fell effortlessly, or the way he furrowed his brow every now and then.

Despite how often Orihara professed to love humans, he couldn’t possibly love them anywhere near as much as Tsukumoya did. How could he, when he took his life for granted on a daily basis? Sleeping with knives, antagonising those who could (quite literally) crush him, and playing games of cat and mouse with the Yakuza…

How could he possibly appreciate, let alone  _love_ , humans as he said if he couldn’t even love himself? To risk any human body as often as he did must certainly mean that Orihara is lying.

It was infuriating, and the thought ate away at Tsukumoya, pushing and urging him to find a solution. After some thought, he developed a small scheme.

The first thing he did was go quiet. No matter how much Orihara taunted and teased him, he never replied. If Tsukumoya were being honest, he might admit that he had assumed this would be a difficult to do, but the amusement he found in Orihara’s confusion was more than enough to help him sail through.

The second thing he did (or rather, what he did whilst he ignored Orihara) was to investigate Nebula more thoroughly. A brief conversation with Kishitani Shingen approximately seventeen-years earlier had come to mind, and he decided to search the depths of the facility to see if what had been described to him had indeed been created.

Seventeen years was surely long enough to create something so simple.

It took three weeks, but after some bribery and sleight of hand, Tsukumoya was ready. Excited, he sent Orihara a simple message in order to ensure that he was focusing on the computer.

 

**Orihara Izaya, reborn!  
  
  
Tsukumoya Shinichi  
**

Thank you for joining me, Orihara.  
  


**Orihara Izaya  
**

I don’t believe I had a choice.  
  


**Orihara Izaya  
**

You should know I’m busy, what do you want?  
  


**Tsukumoya Shinichi  
**

I would like you to watch something for me. I would appreciate your opinion.  
  


**Orihara Izaya  
**

Ah~, is this why you’ve been quiet? You couldn’t stand the thought of asking me for help?  
  


**Tsukumoya Shinichi  
**

Something like that. Are you ready?

 

Tsukumoya didn’t bother to wait for a reply, playing the video as soon as he’d seen Orihara’s eyes read his sentence. The video started black, before strange music began to play. Colours rushed into view, spinning and swirling dangerously.

Tsukumoya prepared himself to exit the computer, excited at the prospect of switching places with Orihara. Once he were in the human body, he’d simply destroy the electronic version of the inferior informant and leave the city.

He watched with glee as Orihara’s eyes widened, unable to tear himself away from the video. The expression on his face was one of fear, as if he understood what was happening to him, before morphing into one of pain.

He let out a scream, loud enough to pierce his own eardrums, as blood trickled from his nose and eyes. Clear liquid that Tsukumoya identified as cerebrospinal fluid rushed from his ears and dripped onto his shoulders.

This wasn’t working. The body was supposed to remain undamaged, and the soul was supposed to exit. It was wrong, _wrong_!

Tsukumoya turned off the video quickly but it was already too late. Orihara shuddered violently, his bowels empting as his shrieks died down. His eyes remained open as he fell backward into his chair, sliding to the ground in a heap slowly.

This was wrong. His body wasn’t supposed to die. It was supposed to be stronger, more resilient…

Tsukumoya’s rage caused a Tokyo-wide blackout that evening. It took four hours for power to be restored, and by the time it had, all records of Orihara Izaya had disappeared. The only thing that remained was his lifeless body, which wouldn’t be found for another three and a half weeks.


	26. Spookymoya's Tales: prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of a six chapter tale written for Halloween, for Tsukumoya's blog.

Strange things always seem to happen in Ikebukuro. It is the home to many urban legends, such as the strong man in the bartender’s suit and the headless rider, as well as a rainbow of colour gangs with their even more colourful leaders.

The underground is more diverse and active than any of us care to think, with the Awakusu-kai controlling a great portion of the city. There are many other, smaller groups that fight like dogs for territory, but the wolves will always win out in the end. 

Still, Ikebukuro is a wonderful place to live. Really, I would recommend it to almost anyone. There’s work available for even the most undesirable persons, and housing that is quite quaint should you not ask after the previous resident’s history.

Of course, one of Ikebukuro’s most famous residents no longer resides there, having chosen to relocate to Shinjuku some years ago. Orihara Izaya, despite his love for Ikebukuro, lives amongst the skyscrapers and black suits. That isn’t to say that he never visits what he considers home, but it has been quite some time since anyone has seen him.

I’m sure he’ll be fine, but with the recent disappearance of Heiwajima Shizuo, the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro, rumours are starting to spread online. Some of them are quite amusing, such as the one that states that both men have fled to America in order to elope. Others, such as the ones that present a far more grotesque hypothesis, are marginally less amusing. 

The disappearance of these two men, arguably Ikebukuro’s two most famous residents, has unfortunately put the disappearances of others into the shadows. If only people saw the greater picture, it would be easy to see what has happened.

This evening, I will share with you their stories. Perhaps you can learn from their mistakes, so that if you ever find yourself in a similar position, you can find a way out alive.


	27. Spookymoya's Tales: Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second of a six chapter tale written for Halloween, for Tsukumoya's blog.

Kida Masaomi, Ryuugamine Mikado, and Sonohara Anri had been walking for what felt like hours. They’d woken to total darkness, with no memory of how they came to be where ever it was they were. Anri had, after ignoring the two boys who were bickering over something useless, guessed that they were underground.

They’d spent little time waiting in the room where they woke up, but had quickly decided to find a way out. Unfortunately, the darkness had them blinded, and they were forced to hold onto each other’s shoulders as they roamed the stuffy corridors.

It had only taken a few minutes for the teenagers to become somewhat accustomed to the darkness. They could not see, but their hearts calmed and their breathing slowed until they were actually laughing and joking with one another.

 

**_“Three blind mice…”_ **

 

Anri paused, leaving the boys to their conversation as her ears prickled. Saika, the demon sword that lived within her, became strangely silent. She was certain that she’d heard something… that she’d _felt_ something… 

“Sonohara-san, are you alright?” Mikado asked, ignoring Masaomi after feeling Anri’s grip tighten on his shoulder.

“I thought I heard something.”

****

**_“Three blind mice…”_**  

 

“Did you hear that?” Anri whispered, hoping that it wasn’t in her head. 

The boys tensed, wondering where the foreign voice had come from.

“Hellooo?” Masaomi called out, “Are you trapped in here as well?”

He received no answer and let out a shaky laugh, “She must be shy.”

The teenagers stayed still, none of them wanting to be the first to move. After another long period of silence, Masaomi took a step forward.

 

**_“See how they run, see how they run…”_ **

****

“Was that English?” Mikado asked no one in particular, “Wh-what did she say?” 

The teenagers pressed themselves against a wall, unsure of where the voice had come from. It seemed that it had come from in front of them, getting closer each time they heard it, but a swipe of Masaomi’s arm soon proved otherwise.

“I t-think it’s a nursery rhyme.” Anri answered after a few moments, “About mice who can’t see?”

“That’s dumb! Who wants to sing songs about mice?” Masaomi joked, though the tension was in his voice was easy to hear.

“I don’t like it…”

“It’s okay, Sonohara-san! Mikado and I will protect you! Right, Mikado?”

“Y-yeah!”

Masaomi, ever the leader, grinned to himself. If there was a girl who wanted to sing to him, he’d have no problem with that. He’d tell her she had a pretty voice and kindly ask after the exit. Pushing off from the wall, he took a few more strides forward.

“It’s not so scary!”

 

**_“They all ran after the farmers wife…”_ **

****

There was a rush of movement from behind the boys, bringing them once again to a standstill. 

“Sonohara-san?!” Mikado called, having his friend literally slip from his fingers, “Sonohara-san!”

Mikado and Masaomi stopped walking, arms outstretched as they searched for their female companion. She’d been quiet, more so than usual, and had now just disappeared. They had both heard that voice singing another line, but neither felt like translating it.

The boys moved around in circles, becoming more panicked as they searched for Anri. They had all but forgotten their current predicament, focusing only on finding their friend.

A dull red light shone from the ceiling, causing both boys to still their movements. A sound, like metal grating against stone, filled the air. The boys instinctively began moving backward, terrified of the creature with red eyes crawling along the ceiling toward them.

 

**_“…she cut off their tails with a carving knife…”_ **

****

“Ma-Masaomi, is that…” Mikado stuttered, eyes wide in fear. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually spoken, as Masaomi’s only answer was a sharp intake of breath. 

The humanoid creature fell to the floor in a heap, sounding like a wet rag being thrown against a wall. Thin limbs tentatively stretched out, fingers clawing at the ground as it fought to move closer to the boys.

Mikado screamed, the sound tearing from his throat and spurring Masaomi into action. The blonde grabbed his friends shoulder roughly and dragged him backward as he stared at the creature, moving him back toward the darkness they’d come from.

_**Crunch**._

Mikado felt something warm splatter on his face and called for Masaomi, but his only response was the dead weight of his friend falling away from him. He turned to face the direction they were heading only to fall to the ground himself a moment later.

 

**_“Did you ever see such a sight in your life…”_ **

The creature made a small and pitiful noise as the blades retreated into its skin, revealing a weeping Anri. The light from its eyes dimmed, and it curled into a foetal position. Anri had battled hard with a Saika, who had become crazed by whatever was lurking in the corridor. It had taken almost everything she had to keep herself from harming her friends, the blades headed for their skin instead forced into the wall beside her.

It had been her aim to remove herself from them, to find a way out and call for them, but then she had seen _it_.

 _It_ had been following them, moving closer with each step they took. She’d fought to reach _it_ , to destroy _it_ even if it meant revealing herself, but Saika wouldn’t allow it. It had taken all of her energy to make it as far as she had, but it had been too late.

She didn’t bother fighting as _it_ approached her. There was no point in fighting anything anymore.

Soundlessly, it slunk toward her, looming over her as Saika became silent once again.

 

**_“As three blind mice?”_ **


	28. Spookymoya's Tales: Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third of a six chapter tale written for Halloween, for Tsukumoya's blog.

Kadota, Togusa, Walker, and Erika were nearly inseparable. Ever since meeting during their time as Blue Squares, they’d spent almost ever free moment they had with one another. Kadota was looked up to as the leader of the group by the other three, and though he didn’t mind this position, he wasn’t entirely sure why he had it.

 

So it was only natural that, when they four of them woke up in a dim room with no recollection of how they found themselves there, they asked Kadota for guidance. Walker and Erika, of course, attempted to help Kadota by mentioning as many pop culture references as possible whilst Togusa took to mumbling about his van.

“Oi, can you cool it for a sec and give me time to think?” Kadota finally snapped, pinching the space between his brows, “Does anyone remember how they got here?”

“The last thing I remember is driving in my van.” Togusa answered bitterly, “Whoever brought us here better hope they didn’t scratch it.”

“Yumacchi and I were waiting for Togusacchi to pick us up.” Erika added, and Walker nodded in agreeance. “What about you Dotachin?”

“I’m not sure, but if no one remembers how they got here then it can’t be good.” Kadota frowned, “We should try to find a way out.”

Erika, Togusa, and Walker agreed, and the four of them exited through the half open door on the other side of the room. The hallway they entered had slightly better lighting, and they were able to see the white paint crumbling on the walls.

Their steps echoed loudly throughout the narrow walkway, and both Togusa and Kadota were thankful when the two otakus began chatting about something they could barely understand. It was almost normal, and made the situation feel far less ominous.

After ten or so minutes of walking, they found themselves at a crossroads. The three members waited as Kadota chose a path to follow, only offering tips and tricks they’d learned when it became clear he wasn’t sure which path to choose.

The chattering helped, it seemed, because Kadota eventually chose the path to the right.

**“Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies…”**

The group stopped, searching for the body belonging to the voice they’d heard.

“What was that?” Togusa asked, hands curling into fists.

“A ghost girl has come to play!” Walker answered quickly, a smile on his face, “Kana-chan! Come out so we can see you!”

“It isn’t Kana-chan! Kana-chan wasn’t English!”

“How do you know our Kana-chan is English?”

“She was talking in English, Yumachi!”

“Maybe Kana-chan speaks English! It wouldn’t be s-”

“Shut up!” Kadota snapped, eyes darting around, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we’re heading back and going the other way.”

“ _‘Itoshi no Kana,’_ Dotachin. It’s about-”

Kadota tuned Erika out, focusing on their surroundings instead. He shared a look with Togusa, the two of them making a silent agreement to make sure that the otakus made it out if anything happened.

 

**“A pocket full of Posies…”**

“Hurry it up, I don’t like this.” Kadota instructed, picking up the pace. The otakus fell silent, hurrying their steps as they entered the other hallway.

“Where do you think the exit is?” Togusa asked, already knowing that none of them had any idea.

“It can’t be too far, we just need to keep mov-”

**“A-tishoo! A-tishoo!…”**

The group ignored the voice, choosing to start jogging instead. There was something about it that made it hard for them to think, and sticking around was never a good idea.

**“We all fall down!”**

“AH!” Walker hit the ground with a thud, panicking the others. “I can’t move!”

“Yumacchi, that isn’t funny!” Erika half-yelled as she grabbed his arm, “Get up!”

“I can’t!”

Togusa shrunk backward, a look of fear and confusion on his face. Walker had been fine a moment ago and there was no reason for him to be faking.

“You really can’t?” Kadota asked, taking the look of panic on Walkers face as an answer. He bent down and picked him up, slinging him over his shoulder. “We’ve got to get out of here _now._ ”

**“Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies…”**

The voice sent shivers down their spines as the group broke into a run. The hallway was long and seemingly endless, with no doors or windows and no turns.

**“A Pocket full of Posies…”**

The voice came more quickly than last time, sounding a little more excited. Erika turned around to see if there was anything chasing them but only saw the empty hallway.

**“A-tishoo! A-tishoo!…”**

“What’s it saying?” Togusa asked breathlessly, “Is it singing?”

“I think its sneezing!” Walker replied, “WE DON’T HAVE ANY TISSUES!”

“I don’t think it wants tissues!”

**“We all fall down!”**

Kadota hit the floor with Walker landing on top of him, sliding forward with the momentum.

“Dotachin!”

“What the fuck!”

Togusa and Erika ran toward him, rolling Walker off his head gingerly.

“I can’t move.” Kadota said quietly, a slight shake in his voice, “I’m sorry.”

Erika shook her head, “Don’t apologise, silly Dotachin. It’s not your fault.”

Togusa nodded in agreement as he pulled on Kadota’s arm, “We’ll carry you both out anyway.”

**“Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies…”**

“No, grab Walker instead. There isn’t enough time for this.”

“I can carry Yumacchi,” Erika interrupted, using all of her strength to pull Walker onto her back. She was stronger than she looked, but the dead weight of her friend made it hard to balance.

**“A pocket full of Posies…”**

“Kadota is right, put me down and get out of here!” Walker snapped, “Don’t underestimate us!”

“But you can’t move!” Togusa reasoned, “How are you gonna fight if you can’t even reach your-”

**“A-tishoo! A-tishoo!…”**

“GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!” Kadota yelled, “It’s coming! Get out of here!”

Erika clung to her friends in an effort to stay, but Togusa grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away, “He’s right. We’ll come back for them.”

She didn’t respond but didn’t fight, choosing to run behind Togusa and blink the tears in her eyes away. She felt like a traitor and a coward.

**“We all fall down!”**

Togusa hit the floor and Erika only barely managed to jump over him.

“NO!” They’d barely made it five feet away from the others before Togusa had fallen, and Erika fell to her knees beside him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

“Erika, run!”

“You can come back for us! Get Shizuo!” 

“Get out of here!”

**“Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies…”**

Erika stayed still, hands gripping Togusa’s arm tightly.

**“A pocket full of Posies…”**

“ERIKA! GET OUT OF HERE!”

“PLEASE RUN!”

Erika ignored them, dragging Togusa slowly back toward Kadota and Walker. Once they were all together, she laid by their feet. 

“ERIKA, FUCKING RUN!”

**“A-tishoo! A-tishoo!…”**

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing from her eyes and she decided to wait for her turn. It wouldn’t be fair for her friends to die like this while she escaped.

After an hour, the three men stopped urging her to run. The voice never sounded again, but Erika was frozen anyway. She no longer wanted to escape and wouldn’t move no matter what they said or how much they begged.


	29. Spookymoya's Tales: Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth of a six chapter tale written for Halloween, for Tsukumoya's blog.

Vorona, Slon, and Egor were used to being in strange places. All three of them were highly trained and incredibly lethal, and were unaccustomed to feeling fear. Fear, after all, came from the unknown but none of them feared what they had no knowledge of, as they were certain they could take it out without much trouble.

 

Even so, the three of them were unnerved by their location, having no knowledge of how they came to be where they were. The room they woke up in was large, with low ceilings made of stone. The lighting came from the lit candles haphazardly scattered around the place, but there were no other objects to be seen.

They had decided to split up and explore the area, but had unfortunately found nothing of importance. The room had been cleaned well, and though it was old and quite obviously falling apart due to disuse, there wasn’t a skerrick of dust nor rubble to be seen.

“Vorona, can you see anything?” Slon called out from across the room, watching as the blonde scaled the wall.

“Negative. I observe no exit.”

“There has to be something.” Egor reasoned from his corner, “We didn’t just appear here. There must be a hidden door.”

“Affirmative.” Vorona agreed, running her palm across the rocky surface.

**“Little Bo-Peep…”**

“Did you hear that?” Slon asked, “It came from above me.”

“Negative, the voice is located above my position.” Vorona replied, eyes darting along the ceiling above her.

“It sounded like it came from over here.” Egor added. “There must be speakers, see if you can find them.”

The men began to scale the walls, feeling the low ceilings for the speaker boxes.

“Ah! I got something!” Slon called happily, grabbing onto the strangely shaped box.

**“…has lost her sheep.”**

The room shook violently as large rocks fell from the ceiling and toward Slon and Egor. Vorona turned in time to watch as they were sealed against the walls. Vorona jumped from her wall, fearful that she would suffer the same fate, and ran to where she’d last seen Slon.

“Slon! Slon!” She called out, “Slon! I demand confirmation of life!”

“Vorona! I’m fine! Just-” Slon coughed heavily, “Just cramped.”

Vorona nodded and ran toward Egor, “Egor! State you-”

Vorona was interrupted by a hacking cough. “I am alive, Vorona.”

“I will begin excavations immediately. If neither received injury, I will begin with Egor.” Vorona stepped toward the wall, taking hold of a rock and attempting to pull it free, “I request assistance if possible.”

**“But couldn’t tell where to find them…”**

Egor coughed again and ignored the voice, “I can push my back against the wall.”

Vorona stepped backward, eyes wide in confusion. She was standing in front of where Egor was trapped, only his voice sounded as though it came from behind her.

“Egor, I demand you explain your movements.”

“What movements?”

“What’s going on out there?” Slon asked, only it sounded as though he was trapped in the ceiling.

Vorona stepped backward, eyes darting around there room. She could hear the men coughing heavily, only the sounds seemed to move into different locations each time.

There had to be an explanation, and she did the only thing she could think of. In perfect English, she asked the voice that had been speaking to them.

_“I am unsure as to who has captured us, but I beg that you leave my comrades in one piece. Please cease this game immediately, and we will leave you as you are.”_

She held her breath as she waited for a response, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand tall.

**“Leave them alone and they’ll come home.”**

_“That is not an answer!”_

The room shook again, sending Vorona to the ground. The rocks that had imprisoned Slon and Egor fell, freeing both men. 

Vorona quickly stood, not bothering to brush herself off as she moved backward. Her mouth opened and a small gasp escaped as she moved quickly backward.

“No!” She yelled, not realising that she had reverted to her mother tongue, “No! I refuse and beg that you return my comrades!”

 

**“Wagging their tails behind them.”**

She continued moving backward until her back hit a fleshy wall. Long arms wrapped around her waist as several men, all with black eyes and the faces of Slon and Egor, walked toward her. She screamed but no sound came out, more hands and fingers digging into her limbs. She tried to fight, but the more she moved the tighter their grips became.

It was only once they started pulling that she realised what their plan was, and, wanting to have it over with quickly, she relaxed. As bones were pulled slowly from their joints, she bit her tongue. She wouldn’t give whatever they were the satisfaction of hearing her scream.


	30. Spookymoya's Tales: Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a six chapter tale written for Halloween, for Tsukumoya's blog.
> 
> Unfortunately, the final chapter (featuring Izaya) has been lost. If I can find a copy of it somewhere, I'll post it.

Heiwajima Shizuo was a man of simple tastes. He liked sunbathing, sleeping in, and quiet afternoons in deserted places. Having a day off to spend sleeping by a stream on a warm summers day would be ideal, as there would be no one around to piss him off, and nothing to ruin his good mood.

 

What he didn’t enjoy was waking up in small wooden boat with no idea how he got there, and no idea how to reach land. Yet, there he was, on a very small wooden boat that was currently floating on what looked like an ocean.

The water seemed to stretch for miles with no sign of land, and yet there was almost no light. He couldn’t be out to sea, of that he was certain, but there was no other explanation.

Carefully, he searched the boat for a set of oars but found nothing. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be in the boat was a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

Shizuo eyed them cautiously but decided to trust them. They looked to be his regular brand, and being poisoned wasn’t all that likely. He placed one between his lips gingerly and opened the matchbox, selecting one stick and running it quickly down the side of the box.

The match ignited easily enough, and he lit his cigarette with it. Finding that he had a touch more light, he decided to move the match over the water to see what he was floating in. His brows knit as he looked beneath him, at first not recognising the scales for what they were.

“Crocodile?”

**“Row, row, row your boat…”**

He jumped at the voice, dropping the match into the water. He turned his head quickly, searching for the source of the voice.

“Hello?”

Had it been the voice of an adult he would have been angry, but the voice sounded as though it belonged to a young girl.

**“…gently down the stream…”**

“Do you speak Japanese?” He asked, knowing it was unlikely that he’d receive an answer. Despite not being enraged by the girls song, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t annoyed.

He puffed on his cigarette, deciding he could spare another match to look around. He stood up and pulled another out, striking it against the side and watching as it sparked to life.

At first he couldn’t see much and had decided to blow it out, but then he heard it. It was soft at first, but the sound of rushing water soon became louder and louder until it was almost thundering. He moved around quickly with the unlikely hope that his match would show he what lay ahead, but saw nothing.

 

**“…merrily, merrily-”**

 

Something hit the bottom of the boat and sent him flying backward in into the water. The cigarette fizzled as something sharp and hard wrapped around his ankles. He tried to kick them off but found they were too strong, but couldn’t reach whatever it was with his hands. He kicked uselessly, trying and failing to free himself.

**“-merrily, merrily…”**

He’d barely acknowledged the voice, still sounding crystal clear despite him being beneath the water. His eyes closed slowly and he wondered if the girl he’d been hearing was an angel.

The last thing he heard was clear, as if it had been whispered into his ear.

**“…life is but a dream.”**


	31. Izaya/Shiki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't beat Sheek.
> 
> Written for the DRRR Gift Exchange.

Izaya rolled over in the large bed, the bright light from the morning sun irritating his eyes despite it being filtered through the thin curtain. He groaned, annoyed at everything, and made a mental note to tell Namie to purchase thicker curtains.

“Good morning, Informant-san.”

Izaya mumbled something nonsensical in return, too busy chasing after his dreams to immediately realise that whoever had greeted him was standing beside the bed. He sighed heavily, a hand flopping around beside him in search for the phone he must have accidentally answered.

His fingers curled around something thick and plastic, and though it didn’t  _feel_ like a phone, he brought it to his ear anyway.

“Good morning, Shiki-san.” Izaya answered, not a trace of sleep to be heard in his voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Informant-san, why are you talking to an alarm clock?”

Izaya laughed, smirk clear on his face as he replied. “Shiki-san, if I’m talking to an alarm clock, then why can I hear your voice? Is this some sort of yakuza humour?”

“Open your eyes, Orihara-san.”

Izaya’s smirk became rough around the edges and one eye slowly opened, moving around quickly as he tried to place himself. He closed it again, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he wasn’t in his own bedroom, then flew out of the bed and into a defensive position.

He dropped the alarm clock, its batteries flying out as it hit the ground, and made to shove his hand into his coat pocket. Unfortunately, Izaya was not wearing a shirt, let alone a coat, and he settled for balling his hands into fists instead.

“Are you feeling alright, Orihara-san?” Shiki asked, his tone mocking as he slowly walked around the bed. “Did you exert yourself too much last night?”

Izaya tilted his head very slightly as his eyes narrowed, racking his brain for any memory he had of the evening before. The last thing he remembered was climbing into Shiki’s vehicle, but the rest of the evening was a blur of colours and sounds he couldn’t quite decipher.

He laughed, deciding to bluff his way out of whatever situation he’d found himself in. “You shouldn’t underestimate me so much, Shiki-san. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

“I’m not underestimating you, by how you were behaving, I’m certain you’ve had worse.” Shiki replied, giving Izaya a quizzical- if not amused- look continued to stalk toward him. “But I might have been a bit rough with you.”

A faint look of horror flashed on Izaya’s face but was quickly covered with a Cheshire smile. “I’m sure that Shiki-san was gentle enough.”

“Are you implying that I shouldn’t have been?”

Izaya fought the urge to move away from the yakuza, who had gotten close enough to  _just_ get infringe on his personal space. He swallowed something thick (and prayed that it wasn’t what he thought it was) and licked his lips, maintaining as much eye contact as he could manage.

“Where are my clothes?”

“You don’t remember? You told me you didn’t need them anymore.”

“I-”

“As always, I didn’t take you seriously. They’re behind you on the dresser.”

Izaya didn’t turn immediately, afraid of what might happen to him should he turn his back on the man in front of him. However, the cool air in the room forced him to remember that he was only wearing his underwear, and he decided to risk it.

He took a step backward before reaching for his clothes, grabbing his pants first before quickly stepping into them. He didn’t even bother zipping himself, only latching the top button to make sure they stayed up before grabbing his shirt.

“You don’t remember anything that happened last night.” Shiki stated rather than asked as soon as Izaya’s face was covered by his shirt.

Izaya stilled his movements briefly as he tried to think of a good response, then continued to dress himself. “How could I forget  _you,_ Shiki-san?”

“You aren’t very convincing, Orihara-san. Why don’t you tell me what you remember?”

Izaya swallowed again, his breath catching in his throat. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the response, struggling to hold himself together. Izaya really was too much sometimes.

“If you’re ready to leave, there’s a car waiting for you. I imagine you’d prefer your own shower.”

Izaya agreed and hastily collected his things, bidding farewell to Shiki before hurrying for the exit. After he’d left, Shiki retreated to the kitchen to fetch himself a well-earned drink.

“That was cruel, Shiki-no-danna.” Akabayashi chuckled from doorway, his cane tapping without softly against the ground. “I had no idea you were so ruthless.”

“How did you find out?”

“You can’t drug that informant kid and think Oi-chan wouldn’t find out.” The red demon laughed, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “What’d ya make him think you did? From the sounds of it, you left in in a room by himself all night.”

Shiki smiled to himself, keeping his back to Akabayashi as he stirred his drink. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“He wasn’t bleeding, but he was in a hurry to leave. Whatever you did must have been effective.”

“It was a suitable punishment for how he’s been behaving, but how I punish him is up to me.” Though Shiki’s words were stern, it was hard to take them seriously when they were being laughed. “I doubt he’ll be as much of a pest now that he knows that his place is  _beneath_ me.”

Understanding Shiki’s pun entirely and wishing he hadn’t, Akabayashi decided that was the best time to leave. He also decided that he would never piss Shiki off to that extent, as the man obviously did not fight fair.


	32. Akabayashi/Shiki (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the DRRR Gift Exchange.

“Spread ‘em.”

Despite being in public area, Akabayashi did as he was told and spread his legs. He wasn’t sure that he had the energy to fight, and he almost certainly didn’t have the will to. It would be easier if he just let Shiki pat him rather than kicking up a fuss, as he didn’t really have anything worth hiding anyway.

As his cheek was pushed further into the dirty alley wall, he closed his eyes and tried to count how many drinks he’d had that evening. Akabayashi could remember the first six clearly enough, but everything after that seemed to blur and spin, making him feel tired and dizzy. 

One of Shiki’s hands maintained a firm pressure on his head, making it too bothersome to push away from the wall, as the other clumsily ran along his back. It had been a while since Akabayashi had been patted down like this, but his memories told him that Shiki wasn’t doing the best job (even if he was being thorough).

“Such a  _dog_ , a  _traitor_  who can’t be  _trusted_.” Shiki spat, slurring the words at their edges just a little as he swayed on his feet. The hand pressing against Akabayashi’s head was more or less holding him upright at this point, though he hoped the other yakuza didn’t know that. “You’re just waiting to turn, aren’t you?”

Akabayashi chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. He didn’t bother to defend himself, history having taught him that it was pointless anyway.

Besides, it wasn’t like Shiki was wrong.

The hand on his back moved to his waist, running up and down a little too quickly to be considered useful. Shiki didn’t seem to remember that he hadn’t checked the other side, deciding instead to lower his hand as he explored.

He passed over a hip, fingers curling around Akabayashi’s thigh a little too softly, then ran downward slowly. Shiki leaned forward, his head pushing against Akabayashi’s back as he bent his knees, his hand travelling further and further down before he turned it. His knuckles grazed over the back of Akabayashi’s knee which caused him to bend his legs ever so slightly.

“You ticklish or something?” Shiki mumbled, obvious surprise in his voice.

“Or something.”

Shiki’s hand started to move again, having stilled without him realising at the surprise reaction he’d received. He continued to use his knuckles, the knobbly bones rubbing against Akabayashi’s inner thigh in a most unusual way. He moved his hand slowly, carefully, as if he were unsure of why he was doing it at all.

Akabayashi sighed and let more of his weight rest against the wall. It felt strange having Shiki pat him down  ~~touch him like this~~ , but it didn’t feel terrible. In fact, it reminded him of his younger days, of the times he’d been with women and-

“Stop.”

“Why? Something to hide?”

“No, but you might find something you don’t like anyway.”

“And what would that be?”

“…”

Shiki’s hand had reached the apex of its journey and had stumbled across something vaguely familiar. He turned his hand slightly, so that his palm faced upward and he could easily cup the weapon he’d found. 

“A gun? You know that guns are illegal in Japan.”  
  
“That’s… not a gun.”

Shiki squeezed tightly, forcing a low groan out of Akabayashi’s throat. “Eh?”

“Tha-at’s my dick, Shiki-no-danna.”

“Ah.”

The men stood in relative silence (if you could ignore the heavy breathing and nervous shuffling), but Shiki’s hand didn’t move. After a few moments, it moved deeper between Akabayashi’s legs, bending at the wrist to allow his fingers to run across the full length.

Akabayashi shifted on his feet, heels sliding outward as his pushed himself further back despite himself. Shiki shoved him back, his head still digging into the Red Demon’s back, laughing coldly as he did.

“So you’re a faggot?”

“Not really.”

“If you aren’t a fag, then why are you hard?”

“If  _you’re_ not a fag, then why are  _you_ holding  _my dick_?”

Shiki replied with force, squeezing hard and letting his nails dig into Akabayashi’s flesh. Akabayashi hissed but didn’t pull away, knowing there was more at stake here than his penis. Even if they were drunk, they were still yakuza, and which meant there was still no room for weakness.

“I should pull it off, then maybe we could trust you.” Shiki hissed, pushing off of Akabayashi to stand erect behind him. He was still far closer than he should be, leaving only enough space for his hand to slide between them.

“You wouldn’t trust me anyway.”

“I wouldn’t. You’re a lying traitor, and you’re a pervert as well. A lolicon, right?” Shiki’s fingers tightened again, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’re after the young miss now, right? That other girl, Sonohara is it? Did she get too old for you?”

The words had barely left Shiki’s mouth when he slammed into the wall on the other side of the alley, Akabayashi’s forearm pressing gingerly against his throat. He smirked, though it was more out of habit than anything else, as he tried to read the expression on Akabayashi’s face.

His eyes were wide, unhidden by the glasses he’d been forced to remove earlier, and the anger emanating from his one working eye was almost unbearable to see. His lips, now a thin line as though he were forcing himself to stay quiet, were shaking, and his nostrils flared slightly.

Akabayashi wasn’t just angry, Shiki decided, he was disgusted.

“The rumours aren’t true.” Shiki laughed, though it was devoid of humour. His eyes had narrowed slightly, and his heart beat wildly. He hadn’t felt this threatened in years.

“No.” Akabayashi’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not a  _pervert._ ”

“You mightn’t be a lolicon, but you’re still a pervert.” Shiki moved his hips forward, brushing himself against the front of Akabayashi’s pants. His erection had flagged some after the disgusting accusation, but still managed to make him shiver when Shiki’s matching one rubbed against it.

Akabayashi inhaled sharply, leaning forward to rest his head against Shiki’s shoulder as his hand moved to his hip. He grabbed it roughly, strong fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, and rutted against him.

Shiki tried to laugh but the sound came out stunted, his body tensing all at once. The alcohol in his system seemed to blur his judgement, his decisions being based around pleasure rather than practicality or good sense.

He slid one hand between them, attempting to unbuckle and unzip himself despite the cramped conditions, while his other arm snaked around Akabayashi’s waist and pulled him closer. Shiki somehow managed to unzip his fly, ultimately deciding to ignore his belt, and choked back a groan when he pulled himself out of his pants.

He was practically dripping at this point, the delicious friction making the pit of his stomach swirl and twist and forcing him to close his eyes. Somewhere in the middle of this, he felt the pressure on his neck lessen, before hearing another zip open and feeling something equally as hard and wet as his own dick push against him.

Shiki’s mouth fell open slightly when a large hand with calloused fingers wrapped around them both, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into it. His breath was ragged and desperate, which would have matched Akabayashi’s had he not been whining ever so slightly.

Akabayashi tightened his grip, his movements awkward and unpractised as he tried to bring both of them closer to orgasm. His thumb ran rough and unfocused shapes along Shiki’s slit, slipping in the thick beads of precum that had oozed out from the both of them.

Bony fingers dug their nails into Akabayashi’s waist, causing him to falter in his movements. He moved faster, hips shamelessly ramming into Shiki’s, before his breath caught in his throat. He moaned, the sound low and gravelly, and his movements stilled as thick ropes of cum shot out of him and onto Shiki’s shirt.   
  
Shiki writhed against him, Akabayashi’s hot breath tickling his neck raising sending a shiver down his spine. He thrust forward violently, his movements uncoordinated, before gasping out a series of obscenities as he climaxed.

Akabayashi managed to catch it this time, the hot mess dripping from the palm of his hand and covering them both. Both men stood still, catching their breaths and slowing their hearts as they tried to comprehend the situation. The excitement had sobered them both up significantly, but neither seemed willing to admit that to themselves.

Finally, after several awkward minutes, Akabayashi pulled away. He turned his back on Shiki immediately and zipped himself up, wiping the mess on his hand on the wall he’d originally been pinned against.

Neither man said a word to the other after that, both agreeing silently that they would never talk about what had transpired between them. 


	33. Akabayashi/Aozaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the DRRR Gift Exchange.

> Aozaki was the sort of person who could count everything he liked on one hand. It wasn’t that he was simple or had high standards, but more because everything was stupid except for him.
> 
> Cats were stupid because they ran into the street and got themselves killed.
> 
> People were stupid because they cried over stupid cats.
> 
> Kids were stupid because they think they know everything then cry when they break a finger.
> 
> Akabayashi was stupid because he was so _fucking_ annoying.

This is what Aozaki was thinking as he sat (unwillingly) across from Akabayashi, who was eating a Popsicle despite being too old for it. It was autumn, which meant it wasn’t hot enough to even _consider_ doing something so disgusting, and yet there he was.

Sucking on that pink piece of ice like he was born to do it.

Akabayashi must have noticed the heat of Aozaki’s glare and looked up, releasing the popsicle from with mouth with a wet _pop._

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Akabayashi looked at Aozaki for a few seconds before shrugging it off, already too used to his blue counterpart’s mood swings, and went back to suckling on the popsicle.

Aozaki made a disgusted noise, reminiscent of an older woman with too many opinions, and tried to shut the noises out. He knew he could just leave as the meeting had been over for some time, but he didn’t feel as though he should have to. He wouldn’t be chased away by some prick licking lasciviously on a wet, pink, dripping-

He stopped his thoughts before his stomach flipped any more than it already was (which _must_ have been nausea), and scowled. “Stop being so fucking disgusting.”

Akabayashi raised his eyebrows and slurped on the popsicle, once again releasing it with a lewd _pop._

“I can’t even eat without you complaining.”

“You should starve, but it’d still be too good for you.” Aozaki spat back, his eyes drawn to the beads of saliva running down the icy piece of shit mocking him. “You should shove it down your throat and choke on it.”

Akabayashi scoffed at the word choice, but chose not to reply in favour of licking the sticky liquid that had dripped onto his fingers.

Aozaki shifted uncomfortably in his seat, becoming angrier by how traitorous his lower half seemed to be. “Fucking pervert.”

“I’m just licking my fingers.”

“ _Exactly._ Fucking faggot piece of shit.”

“Are you angry because I didn’t buy you one?”

“No I’m fucking not, I don’t want to suck anything.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? You really are a fucking pervert.”

Akabayashi chuckled to himself and went back to his popsicle, paying no attention to the indignant man in front of him. His popsicle had begun to melt already and, though it might have been out of season, he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could.

He ran his tongue around the piece of ice, a little disappointed in how quickly it had lost its flavour. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been a little more enjoyable had he not been constantly interrupted by the gorilla masquerading as a yakuza opposite him.

Feeling childish, Akabayashi wrapped his lips around the tip of the popsicle and slowly pushed it into his mouth, making as many slurping noises as he could. He looked up at Aozaki, surprised to see that he’d made the man so made that he’d become bright red.

“Mrr gwawnna wavv wa mwoke.”

“ _Don’t talk with that thing in your mouth!_ ”

“Mwad?”

Aozaki glared at Akabayashi’s mouth, unable to look away from the hollowed cheeks sucking enthusiastically on the popsicle. He just _knew_ that _that shithead’s tongue_ was twirling around it inside his mouth, and he wondered how it would feel if, just _if,_ Akabayashi got on his knees in front of him.

He’d always thought that the red demon should kneel before him, but those thoughts usually included a lot of blood and screaming. These newer, more intrusive and infinitely less satisfying thoughts included different bodily fluids altogether.

As he watched Akabayashi work on the popsicle further, the less inhibited part of Aozaki (which might also be the part that was currently arguing with the zipper on his pants) wondered what would happen if he propositioned the old bastard.

He’d say yes, right?

Of course he would. He’s a faggot, and any dicks a good dick, right?

…but did that make Aozaki a faggot?

No. No, because he didn’t want Akabayashi’s dick, he just wanted to put _his_ dick into Akabayashi’s mouth, and there’s absolutely nothing faggot-y about that.

That’s just good sense.

Shifting in his chair again, Aozaki dragged himself from his thoughts.

“Oi, fuckstain. What do you say y-you-”

Aozaki was cut off by a loud crushing sound, and watched in horror as Akabayashi chomped on the now crushed popsicle in his mouth. Akabayashi’s motions were almost exaggerated, and Aozaki was sure he heard him bite through the stick.

“Eh, what?”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Akabayashi.”


	34. Aozaki/Shiki (NSFWish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the DRRR Gift Exchange.

Neither Aozaki nor Shiki remembered how they’d ended up making out like teenagers, though neither man particularly cared. The height and power difference, the shared dislike each had of the other, and the mutual and begrudging respect between them somehow made everything passionate and desperate.

Shiki was a man who was used to being the strong one, the one who could throw his partner over his shoulder and drag them off to his cave, so to say he wasn’t unaccustomed to being tossed around was an understatement.

Aozaki, on the other hand, was only fuelled by Shiki’s uncooperative behaviour. The man just wouldn’t stay _still,_ and it was pissing him off even more. Though, that was hardly stopping him from trying, in fact it was spurring him on.

The two men had consumed a little too much alcohol earlier that night, but that didn’t have very much influence on how they’d ended up in this situation. No… that had happened for a very different reason…

Shiki bit Aozaki’s lip and yanked on it, only releasing it once he tasted iron on his tongue. He panted slightly, being pulled forward by the two large hands gripping his ass.

“His sunglasses make him look like a cheap salesman.” He breathed, heart pounding in his ears.

Aozaki groaned, leaning down to assault Shiki’s neck as fingers scraped down his shoulders. “Fuckin’ shithead pervert’s got a small dick so he carries that shitty cane to compensate.”

Shiki gasped at the feeling of teeth slowly grating on his skin, and rocked his hips forward to meet Aozaki’s at what he said. It was strange, or perhaps sick, but both the men had discovered something about themselves, something that had led to the steamy affair they were currently attempting to enjoy.

Both of them became aroused by insulting Akabayashi.

Aozaki straightened his back and pulled Shiki up to his waist, forcing him to wrap his legs around him. They hadn’t decided on who was doing what, but both knew that it would be a constant battle for dominance no matter which position they were in.

The Blue Demon staggered forward haphazardly, slamming both of them into walls as he tried to resist the urge to fuck the man clinging to him _right here and fucking now._ He wanted nothing more than to rip those almost-too-tight pants off him, to spread him wide and lick him from end to end.

It wasn’t worth Shiki’s potential bitching about staining his (probably) precious carpet though, so he just barely resisted the urge and continued his pilgrimage, hyper aware of the painfully nice way Shiki was rubbing his ass against him.

“Always fuckin’ up to something. Sneaky old shit can’t be trusted.”

Shiki groaned, thin fingers ripping the back of Aozaki’s shirt out of his pants and snaking his way inside it. The skin was hot to the touch and softer than it had any right to be, and he explored every inch within his reach. “Always calling himself ‘Oi-chan,’ j- _uh-_ st like a pe-”

Shiki was cut off by Aozaki’s lips, the force of the kiss cracking the doorframe Aozaki had shoved him up against. He felt clumsy hands in his lap fumbling with his belt buckle, then the pressure easing from his erection as his pants were pulled down. The cool air did nothing to calm him, only making him more aware of how many clothes he was still wearing.

“Hurry up!” Shiki hissed, misjudging the distance between them slightly and head-butting Aozaki in the face.  He snorted at Aozaki’s surprised reaction, cutting off any complaints when he bit the man’s earlobe.

Aozaki couldn’t have agreed with Shiki anymore though, and didn’t bother flipping on the lights as he stumbled into the bedroom. Shiki unwrapped his arms from Aozaki and leaned backward, gripping the bottom of his own shirt to pull it over his head.

The action sent Aozaki off balance, and he tripped over his feet as he tried to correct himself. The pair flew forward, Aozaki landing beside the bed while Shiki was thrown into the night stand.

Aozaki grunted, using the bed to steady himself as he rose to his feet. He brushed himself off slightly, squinting in the darkness for any sign of movement.

“Oi.”

When he didn’t receive a reply, Aozaki frowned. He was still very interested in ramming his cock into Shiki’s ass multiple times, but if the man wasn’t answering him then that could present a problem.

Aozaki took a few steps backward and toward the door, and ran a hand along the wall as he attempted to locate the light switch. It was in a _stupid_ place and took longer than it should have to find, and he mumbled angrily to himself about it.

The lights blinked on and illuminated the room enough for Aozaki to clearly see Shiki’s unconscious body. He’d been thrown with such force that he’d broken the night stand, which he was currently lying in the middle of, and his head had actually partially gone through the wall behind him. Had it not meant that Aozaki was no longer getting sex, he would have laughed, given that Shiki’s cock was still out and his shirt was caught somewhere over his head with both arms stuck in it.

Instead of laughing, Aozaki very calmly retrieved his phone from his pocket and took a photo of the scene (so he could remember to laugh later) before calling a certain discreet underground doctor for assistance.


	35. Shizuo/Izaya (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Anonymous: Could you write some smut where you only use the worst, most mood-killing synonyms for 'penis' you can think of? Preferably for Shizaya. I'm sure it'll be hilarious.

The incessant sound of Izaya’s typing had Shizuo falling somewhere between sleepiness and rage. He’d been here, sitting in this uncomfortable chair across from Izaya, for the better part of five minutes already, and his patience was wearing thin.

 

What sort of an  _ asshole  _ would invite someone around to their apartment, only to ignore them as soon as they’d arrived? A real shitty assholey one, that’s what! Sure, maybe Izaya hadn’t actually invited Shizuo over the same way others might, but there was no reason to start splitting hairs when he was being ignored. 

 

And if Izaya didn’t want someone visiting, then why ignore the phone? Why not answer the fucking thing and say he’s busy and can’t answer like a fucking regular person?!

 

_ Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… _

 

It was infuriating, really, and Shizuo couldn’t help but shift in his chair. He wanted to yell at Izaya to hurry the fuck up, or at least look at him, but the bastard seemed intent on ignoring him. Had he even noticed when Shizuo had broken his door in half? It didn’t seem like he had, given that the  _ fucking typing  _ hadn’t stopped.

 

_ Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… _

 

What was so good about a keyboard, anyway? Just a bunch of buttons that didn’t know what they were. 

 

_ Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… _

 

Fucking buttons.

 

_ Tap, tap, tap, tap… _

 

“Oi,”

 

_ Tap, tap, tap, taptap, taptap, taptaptap… _

 

“Oi! Izaya-kun!”

 

_ Taptaptaptaptaptaptap, taptap, taptaptaptap… _

 

“DON’T IGNORE ME, BASTARD!”

 

_ Taptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

 

The ground shook after he sprung out of his chair, and Shizuo stomped himself toward Izaya. He spared a brief thought for the neighbours below them, but put it out of his mind once he reached the bastard who was  _ still typing. _

 

If Izaya had noticed Shizuo, then he was doing a good job of pretending he hadn't. His fingers continued to press against the keys until he was forcibly spun around in his chair and had nowhere left to look but at his irate boyfriend.

 

“Shizu-chan, I'm working.”

 

Shizuo scoffed at that, and turned to inspect Izaya’s computer. On the screen was a word document filled with the words  _ Shizu-chan is an idiot. Shizu-chan looks stupid when he’s annoyed.  _ over and over and over again.

 

“What sort of work do you call that, huh?!”

 

“They're my observations of a monster. I'm recording them for future generations.”

 

“Who’d be interested in that?!”

 

“Well…” Izaya moved his hand from where it had settled in his lap, to Shizuo’s hip, then traced a finger down toward the obvious bulge in his pants. “Shizu-chan looks interested.”

 

When had Shizuo gotten hard? He had no idea, but it sure as hell had nothing to do with what Izaya had been typing. He sucked in a shallow breath as Izaya caressed his pecker, and canted his hips slightly forward.

 

“Bastard, what are you-”

 

“To think you get so  _ hard  _ after reading  _ that _ .” With a laugh, Izaya moved to unbutton Shizuo’s fly. “I wonder if you're a masochist.”

 

Shizuo’s dong twitched with anticipation. It hadn’t been that long since they’d done this, but each time they did always felt like the first time. 

 

“No underwear today?”

 

“Eh?” Shizuo glanced down in time to watch Izaya’s fingers pull his prick out of his pants, and bit back a gasp. “Wasn’t because of you.”

 

“Are you sure? I thought this is why you decided to come visit.” Izaya’s eyes stayed on Shizuo’s love muscle as he ran his fingers along it, exploring the surface as if he were memorising it. “I wouldn’t want to  _ force  _ you into doing anything, so I can tuck this back away?”

 

“Tch.” Rocking his hips despite his best efforts to look petulant, Shizuo turned away. “Do what you want, then.”

 

“What  _ I  _ want?” The wheels of Izaya’s chair squeaked as he pulled himself forward, getting as close as he could to Shizuo’s lumberous wood. He yanked on it playfully, forcing Shizuo to stumble forward, then ran his lips along the shaft lightly. “What do  _ you  _ want? Or are you too prideful to ask?”

 

Shizuo panted with anticipation as Izaya teased him. He wanted to give in almost as much as he didn’t want to give in, and his mind was beginning to feel clouded. “I don’t want to  _ force  _ you to d-do anything, idiot.”

 

The parroted reply earned him another yank on his baloney pony, and any coherency Shizuo had started to fade quickly. “I want a lot of things, Shizu-chan. But if you aren’t willing to cooperate-”

 

“ _ Fine.  _ Just-” Shizuo stifled another groan, and somehow managed to turn it into an amused sounding grunt. “I want it.”

 

“Want what?”

 

“Shit. Fucking-” Izaya cut him off with a flick of his tongue. “-J-Just-! Everything, fuck!”

 

“There’s no need to beg!” It was almost criminal to enjoy teasing Shizuo this much, but Izaya couldn’t help himself. The reactions he was so kindly gifted were so beautiful that he couldn’t help but want more of them. Still, it would do him no good to drag this out more than he had already. “Your wish is my command.”

 

With a smug smile, Izaya dipped his head further down and ran his tongue over Shizuo’s meatballs. He marvelled at their firmness and sucked one into his mouth, working it over quickly before pushing it out. His fingers stayed wrapped firmly around the bottom of Shizuo’s fuckslinger, squeezing it occasionally and relishing in its pulses.

 

There was something about servicing Shizuo that always made Izaya feel warm. It wasn’t so much that he was giving him pleasure, but more that he had total control over a monster. With a flick of his wrist, he could have Shizuo groaning his name. With the swipe of his tongue, he could have Shizuo’s knees shaking. 

 

The man who could destroy cities with a fist was reduced to nothing more than a pile of pleas and whines, and all it took was a light touch. Perhaps it was conceited, but Izaya liked to think it was specifically  _ his  _ light touches that reduced Shizuo to this.

 

As if on cue, Shizuo’s fingers dug into his pants in an effort to contain himself, just as Izaya’s name slipped out of his mouth. It was so easy-  _ so  _ easy- but that didn’t make it any less satisfying.

 

It was only because Shizuo was such a sucker for anything remotely  _ cute  _ that Izaya kissed his way up the custard launcher, lingering for a little too long once he finally reached the top. His eyes flickered up and toward Shizuo’s as he opened his mouth, making sure that the beast would watch as he took all of it in.

 

“ _ Shit-! _ ”

 

Having been in this situation countless times, Izaya knew to pull back just as Shizuo bucked forward. It was a reflex, and one that he knew Shizuo despised, but that didn’t mean he was willing to die sucking on a meat popsicle.

 

“Are you feeling eager?” Izaya kissed the tip as Shizuo blushed, and let his hand slowly start to pump. “Have you stopped jerking off? Haha! Did I ruin that for you?”

 

“Shut up...” Shizuo moved his hands so he could cover his face, but continued rocking his hips.

 

“Eh~? I was only joking, but don’t tell me it’s true!” Another flick of Izaya’s wrist had Shizuo mumbling nonsense, but that didn’t seem to be enough. “Which is it that did it?”

 

“W-What?”

 

“Which ruined your hand? Was it my mouth, or my ass?”

 

If Shizuo had been blushing before, he was practically on fire now. “Don’t ask stupid questions!”

 

“So the answer is obvious?” With a hum, Izaya released Shizuo’s pork sword and pushed him away. He stood up, then began to pull his own pants off as dramatically as possible. “I’m not fluent in Idiot, so the answer is lost on me. Why don’t you just  _ grunt  _ at whichever you prefer?”

 

As much as Shizuo wanted to break Izaya’s face, he couldn’t find the energy to do it. He felt frozen; trapped by the sight of Izaya’s erect peepee poking proudly out from beneath his shirt. “I’m...”

 

“You’re?” Izaya kicked his pants off and sat himself back down, but hitched both legs over the armrests of his chair. Once his easily snaked love oven was in full view, he opened his mouth as widely as he could.

 

“What the f-”

 

“Just grunt, and maybe I’ll let you use one.”

 

“I’m not fucki-”

 

“You  _ could  _ be.” Izaya ran his hands down the inside of his thighs, and watched as Shizuo’s gaze followed them. “But you have to say  _ please. _ ”

 

“Go fuck yourself!”

 

“I won’t let you watch if I do.”

 

“I don’t- Fucking! Shut up!” It wasn’t until Shizuo’s hand was wrapped around Izaya’s fuckrod that he realised what he was doing, but by then it was too late. His own winky seized, and small droplets of precum squeezed out the end. “Fuck you!”

 

With no other choice, Shizuo lunged forward and captured Izaya’s lips with his own. The force was great enough to send the chair flying backward before it tipped, sending both of the skidding along the floor. Somewhere in the confusion, Izaya’s legs were thrown over Shizuo’s shoulders and a bottle of lube was pulled out of thin air.

 

Shizuo shoved a finger inside of Izaya carefully, but any caution was lost once the pest started clawing at him. Another was pushed in after that, then a third, but it was purely practical. It wasn’t foreplay, it was quick and needy. A physical representation of just how badly Shizuo wanted this, and how much Izaya loved to make him wait- or so he said. If his own reactions were anything to go by, then he and Shizuo would be evenly matched.

 

“Shizu-chan, just put it in already!” 

 

Shizuo growled into Izaya’s shoulder, not entirely convinced that Izaya was thinking clearly. “Need a bit more time, otherwise you’ll split.”

 

“Just fucking do it or get out.” Again, Izaya’s words seemed to directly contradict his actions, as his legs pulled Shizuo closer despite the ultimatum. “Hurry up!”

 

Deciding it mightn’t be wise to underestimate Izaya, Shizuo pulled his fingers out. He ignored the gasp it caused, focusing instead on covering his beef whistle with lubricant. After a thin coat was applied, he readjusted his position, moving to sit more squarely between Izaya’s open legs.

 

They shared a look, one that said more than either of them could to each other, and Shizuo moved his hips forward gently. The hot beef injection pushed through Izaya’s molten entrance easily, slowly stretching it until it felt like a thousand tiny needles were puncturing his pucker in the most pleasurable of ways. His back arched in a desperate attempt to somehow cope, as his baby maker pulsed.

 

“Shit, you sure it’s enough?” Shizuo asked as he sheathed himself inside Izaya’s chocolate starfish. “It’s fucking…  _ tight. _ ”

 

Unable to reply verbally, Izaya only nodded, his eyes scrunched shut as he fought to contain himself. He wanted to last the distance, or at least some of it, but the idea that Shizuo’s dickmometer was lodged so deeply within his poop chute was almost too much to bear. To be toppled off his high horse by such a thing was almost laughable.

 

Luckily for Izaya, Shizuo was oblivious to these thoughts. He was too drawn in by the sensation of Izaya’s spongey walls that it was almost more than he himself could take. Slowly, he pulled himself out until his baby arm was only half inside of Izaya’s turd cutter, then pushed himself back in.

 

Both men groaned, shaking as Shizuo ground his hips against Izaya’s. It was dangerous how good this felt, but neither seemed to care. Shizuo repeated the same, slow action again, and again, building up the pace until he was slamming inside Izaya’s balloon knot with wild abandon.

 

There was no rhythm or thought to the movement; only the desperate need to find more, to give more, and to make it feel as good as possible. He grabbed Izaya’s leg by the calf and bent it down until it was almost levelled against its owner, and spread the other as wide as he could. He became nearly crazed, drilling into Izaya’s cornhole with veracity and ferociousness that his anaconda became a weapon of ass destruction.

 

On the ground, Izaya writhed, his fingernails digging into any inch of skin they could reach. He wanted to be touched, to be held, and to be destroyed in every imaginable way. Any request he might have had merged into the silent scream he gave when Shizuo finally grasped his purple-headed yogurt slinger and began to pump it. Even if the movements were awkward and amateurish, it still felt overwhelming, and before he could stop himself he was shooting peckersnot all over his stomach.

 

At the sight of it, Shizuo’s growl turned into a whimper, and his movements became more erratic. His heat-seeking love missile erupted inside of Izaya’s fecal cavern, spraying his Daddy Sauce deep inside. Shuddering, his hips rocked against Izaya’s until he was fully milked of his splooge, and he collapsed on top of his boyfriend.

 

They needed to get up, to clean, and shower, but neither felt in the mood. Instead, both fell into a restless sleep almost immediately, totally unaware that a now traumatised Kida had walked in on them midway through.


	36. Egor/Akabayashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by jeffersontick: eyelid or forehead kiss + egor and akabayashi

There were precious few moments where Akabayashi would feel comfortable enough to open his right eye. As a general rule, the only time he felt this was acceptable was when he was using it to intimidate. Only then would he remove his glasses and open it wide, as if he were able to see into the soul of the person he was staring at through the glass ball.

It was funny, really, that the memory of how he lost his eye was held so closely to his heart, yet he used the injury to strike fear into the hearts of others. The removal of the eye had been something beautiful, and represented something intimate and innocent. Yet, its remains were fearsome and gruesome, and he felt no shame in using it to his advantage.

Funny, funny…

How lucky his victims were.

Egor had never felt much in the way of jealousy or envy. He’d always felt, even as a child, that his only competitor should be himself. There was no point in fighting against someone with incomparable abilities, and should he best himself, then he’d surely overtake them regardless.

But here he was, middle aged and jealous of some seventeen year old drug dealer whose most positive attribute was that he managed not to shit himself.

A small, smug smile lifted the corners of Akabayashi’s lips, and Egor glared at him skeptically. Logically, he knew that Akabayashi was asleep, and even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t like the man could read minds (probably). No, he was probably dreaming about what they did when they first tumbled into this bed.

The mere memory was enough to have Egor suppressing a shiver, and he frowned just a little in retaliation. He was in no mood for fond memories- not when he was busy pouting.

He stretched out a long, thin finger and hovered it over Akabayashi’s right eye. In all the time they’d known each other, Egor had only managed to catch a glimpse of the coloured glass once. It was the day after their first night together, and the old yakuza had forgotten someone else was in his bed. He’d only opened his eye for a moment before realising, but the act of hiding it lit a strange fire inside of Egor.

Why play keep away like that? Was Egor not worthy, or did Akabayashi think that the woman who did it to him would somehow feel offended? She was married, so it wasn’t like she could have an opinion on the matter. So what was it?

Unable to stop himself, Egor moved his finger closer to Akabayashi’s eye. He ran the tip of it along the lid, taken aback at how soft the skin was. Though he knew that he might later regret doing something like this (what an awful invasion of privacy), he applied a gently pressure and slowly pushed the eyelid off the glass replacement beneath.

“…”

It was a glass eye.

There was no trap, or explosive.

It could be used to choke someone, or as a makeshift bullet, or as a bludgeoning device, or a thousand other things- but it wasn’t grotesque.

Why would anyone fear something so alluring?

He furrowed his eyebrows as he thought, busting through each scenario with ease. Egor had seen Akabayashi fight on rare occasions, though he really had been too much of a match for his would-be attackers. There was a certain grace and charm to Akabayashi’s movements, and a confidence that made Egor’s toes curl in his shoes as he observed them.

How anyone could flail and scream in the face of something so beautiful was unfathomable. It was an insult to everything and anything good and right and violent. Frankly, it was indecent.

The springs in the mattress creaked as Egor shifted his weight, and he curled himself closer to his sleeping boyfriend. He propped himself up on one elbow as he leaned over him, scrutinising his still smiling expression before leaning himself down.

His lips brushed the warm glass lightly, careful not to apply too much pressure. There was no way on Earth that Egor wanted Akabayashi to know he was doing such a strange thing, and pushing his eye further into the socket would be a good way to achieve the opposite.

His lips moved higher, ghosting across Akabayashi’s brow and to his forehead almost like an afterthought. He left them there, just below Akabayashi’s hairline, in an extended but chaste kiss. Having gotten what he wanted, Egor’s own eyes shut and he drifted quickly to sleep.

It was just as well, too, given that Egor would likely sleep through the rising temperature of the man below him. Only once Akabayashi was certain Egor was asleep did he raise his hand to cover the exposed part of his face, and let out the long breath he’d been holding.

What sort of an assassin didn’t notice when someone was fake sleeping, anyway?


	37. Egor/Akabayashi (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirror Sex

Though he couldn’t say that he’d willingly gotten himself into this mess, Egor couldn’t quite say he hated it.

After being sent from Russia by Lingerin, Egor had soon found himself bored. There wasn’t all that much to see or do in Ikebukuro, despite the rumours he’d heard, and he’d been stationed in this room for longer than he cared to think about.

It was exhausting, and as he was the only one ever _in_ this room, he couldn’t help but wonder just why he hadn’t been sent home. Was there no use for him? Was he considered too old, or too old fashioned? He was middle aged, sure, but he hardly looked it. With how well he looked after himself (and how Shinra had fixed him up after his run in with Shizuo), he looked quite a few years younger than he actually was.

The days seemed to melt into weeks without much fanfare. Even the sun seemed bored by the room, averting its rays to better and more interesting things.

It was boring. Tedious. Humdrum.

It was nothing like the life Egor thought he’d live.

Until, it was.

Egor had been asleep on the job when he arrived, too worn out by the lack of stimulation to stay awake during normal hours. He’d stayed silent, watching as Egor slept. Perhaps he wondered why he was sleeping, or why he felt they had so much in common. They hadn’t had so much as a conversation, and yet, the stranger could see himself in Egor.

Not a lot, but… There was definitely a similarity, something that the stranger loathed in himself but sought out in others.

Several hours passed, and Egor finally woke up. The last of the day’s light had disappeared, leaving the room in total darkness. It was something Egor enjoyed, even if others didn’t, and just that seemed to improve his mood.

“You awake, kid?”

A voice? When did someone else arrive? Any hint of sleep immediately dissipated, and Egor felt fully awake and on guard.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, you don’t know about Oi-chan?” The stranger laughed strangely, as if he’d been afraid his reputation had preceded him. “I’m Akabayashi. Who’re you?”

After quietly weighing up his options, Egor replied with his name. If they were both in the room, then they must be allies.

“That’s a funny name. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“No.”

“So where are you from?”

“Not around here.”

“Psht!” Akabayashi exhaled roughly as he laughed, the sound bouncing off Egor pleasantly.

For the rest of the evening, the pair talked. They discussed many things, with varying success: from politics, to idols, to guacamole, to death. They talked for so long that neither noticed the sun rise, nor did they notice it set once more. For days, they spoke endlessly, only breaking for an hour or so at a time for sleep.

Life felt a little less boring for Egor, and he wondered just how he came to befriend this strange man so easily. Perhaps it was because their facades both seemed to have cracked under immense pressure, or because both were lonelier than they appeared. Regardless of the reason, Egor couldn’t help but feel close to Akabayashi.

Closer, perhaps, than he maybe should.

It wasn’t until darkness flooded the room on the fourth night that there was silence between them. Akabayashi was staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts, as Egor tried to calm his own. He’d never felt such an attraction, or such a powerful urge to touch someone.

It could have been because they’d both been trapped and forgotten, but… it _felt_ real. A beautiful sort of agony that had Egor wanting to smile and cry and scream all at once.

He hadn’t moved from his spot since Akabayashi had appeared, but with the way the cool breeze wafted through the blinds, he found he couldn’t help himself any longer. The moment was too perfect, too bright, and too _everything_ to simply pass it up.

He moved slowly at first, as if he were afraid of scaring Akabayashi away, then accelerated. He threw himself toward Akabayashi, his desperation far too much to bear.

“Shit! Ki-!”

Egor crashed into Akabayashi, then shattered into a million pieces. Akabayashi soon followed, unable to hold himself together now that his frame had been damaged.

“Those idiots left the window open.” Shiki sighed and put out his cigarette. He was in the office beside the room Akabayashi and Egor had been in, and had heard the crash through the wall. “Guess we’ll have to import a new mirror.”


	38. Awakusu-kai

Panic was spreading throughout the Awakusu-kai headquarters like a wildfire. The cries, yells, and warnings bounced off the barren walls, echoing loudly enough to alert any unfortunate person to the threat deeper inside.

It felt like a war zone, and had Shiki shrugging off the nervous chill that ran up his spine. Unlike the younger men, he walked toward the source of the panic, navigating the confusion with his shoulder.

He’d left his weapon in his office, deciding that whatever the threat was wasn’t worth the risk of a phone call to police. Their neighbours were understanding when it came to screams, but the sound of a bullet being fired would surely be reported.

As he drew closer to the noise, a heavy door flew open, a startled underling staggering out of it as quickly as possible. His eyes were wild, and a grin pulled at his lips in a way Shiki could only describe as obnoxious.

Had he succumbed to the fear and become insane?

“Abukara, what’s going on?”

_“Dragon-”_

Shiki looked up and through the door just in time to hear a loud roar. It reverberated through the room easily now, given that the other underlings had gone quiet once they’d heard Shiki’s voice.

“Boss!” The underling pinned beneath the Dragon yelled, his face red with embarrassment. “Sorry, sir!”

“…”

“The princess… She wanted to play, and-”

Shiki held up a hand, cutting the young yakuza off. “I understand. The Dragon ate her.”

Akane grinned beneath her dragon mask and roared as loudly as she could. Her prey yelped in surprise, not entirely understanding Shiki’s reaction.

“We must avenge the young lady at any cost.” Shiki stepped forward as he spoke and casually rolled up his sleeves. “There’s only one way to defeat a dragon, and as you’re clearly dead, I suppose it’s up to me now.”

Shiki moved so quickly that he was almost a blur, and grabbed the young girl off his subordinate. She giggled loudly, squirming and roaring as best she could as she was attacked by his onslaught of tickles.

Abukara closed the door and leaned against it, smiling happily at the sound of Akane’s laughter. They’d surely be scolded for causing a panic later, but as long as the young princess was happy, their punishment wouldn’t me _too_ bad.


	39. Kujiragi Kasane/Kuzuhara Shinju

The Kuzuhara family was quite well known in certain circles. They were feared by criminals, who knew of just how frightening the righteous anger of each member of the Kuzuhara family could be. Whether they were children in school who confronted their peers with allegations of their (potential) misdeeds, or police officers guarding their beat with a smirk and a ticketbook, each Kuzuhara felt the same way about justice.

Of course, being as vigilant as a Kuzuhara could have its drawbacks. Not only was it physically and emotionally exhausting, but the intensity of each member of the family was something that only very few could handle. The fact that those few were usually criminals (or, in a certain case, a monster) only added insult to injury.

On the bright side, this also made Kuzuhara’s quite relaxed. Despite the knowledge they had of their partner’s misdeeds (as the vast majority met their loved one’s whilst arresting them), they had a tendency to see past their crimes and to who they really were. The fearlessness that came with being raised amongst such people generally overrode any doubts that a reasonable person might have, and left each Kuzuhara non-plussed by certain behaviours (such as hearing their partner leave in the middle of the night, or bumping into them during raids).

That isn’t to say that this seemingly reckless and carefree attitude is limitless, but it does make the less conventional relationships work.

Shinju’s breathing hitched in her sleep, and the threat of her waking pulled Kasane out of her thoughts and back to the present. She watched as Shinju’s lip twitched into the most innocent smile she’d ever seen, and admired the way it made the scar of her face seem to dance.

Kasane had never been interested in someone before, let alone a woman, but there’d been something about Shinju. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on, despite the long nights she spent watching her sleep.

What did she dream about that always made her smile? Whatever it was, Kasane couldn’t help the pang of jealousy she felt. She wanted that dream smile to be directed at her, though she couldn’t really complain about the conscious smiles she’d been given. Surely, when a person was awake, their smile meant something more.

Shinju hummed something low and shifted slightly, the sheets tangling around her chest. Again, Kasane couldn’t help but wonder why she was moving, but hoped it wasn’t because Shinju had somehow noticed the pressure against her scalp.

It was lucky, really, that the young Kuzuhara barely moved in her sleep. It was even luckier still that she was a heavy sleeper, given that Kasane couldn’t stop herself around such a defenceless and beautiful woman.

It was only fair that Kasane got to dress her up, since Shinju always insisted on making her wear the shirt of her uniform to bed. And if she wasn’t prepared to wear cat ears when she was awake, then she couldn’t complain about wearing them when she was unconscious.

Shinju shifted again, and her hand rubbed at her face roughly. Kasane felt strange seeing the action, and wondered if her girlfriend might actually be awake and playing along. Her deep and even breaths said otherwise, but…

Kasane leaned further forward and turned her head, then gently pressed an ear against Shinju’s chest. Her heart was beating steadily instead of speeding up at the contact as it usually did, which meant she really was asleep.

“..”

She pulled the bottom of her shirt further down her thighs but kept her head in place on Shinju’s chest. The woman was only human, and humans were more likely to suddenly stop breathing, so it really was just logical to stay there.

As her eyes slipped closed, she wondered if she’d wake up in time to remove the cat ears from Shinju’s head. The thought of Shinju scolding her in the morning for breaking in whilst her hair was a mess and the ears poked over the top…

Kasane closed her eyes and pulled herself closer to Shinju. It was worth seeing another pair broken in front of her if it meant seeing something so ridiculously cute.


	40. Egor/Akabayashi (3)

Despite all his years of training, it took more effort for Egor to suppress the shiver that threatened to overtake him as the wooden cane moved gently up the inner part of his right thigh. He felt a sort of electricity course through his veins, making his legs part slightly despite himself.

If this were anyone else, he doubted that it would have such a tremendous affect. He might be able to brush it off, to laugh and tell them to try harder.

But this was Akabayashi. _His_ Akabayashi.

It as hard to think about anything other than that wicked sensation. Everything Egor had in him went to fighting his own reactions, but he couldn’t stop the sharpness of his breathing.

In this moment, nothing mattered but that damn cane, or the person controlling it.

“Are you doing all right, Egor?” Akabayashi asked with a smile that Egor _knew_ he had, despite not being able to see him. “Would you like Oi-chan to stop?”

The cane reached the apex of its journey and tapped Egor’s erection once, twice, three times. A low groan leaked from Egor’s barely parted lips, sounding a little too much like a _“No,”_ for his own liking.

“Pl-Please stop, I… I promise I won’t deal anymore!” A panicked voice choked out, finding it hard to talk properly with Egor’s hands around his throat. “And I won-won’t tell anyone!”

The cane dropped away from Egor’s legs, which closed shortly after. That was right, they were working?

“Apologies. Akabayashi is incapable of controlling himself when I’m about to kill.”

“K-Kill?!”

Egor’s hands tightened quickly, stopping the flow of oxygen in the man’s throat before he had a chance to beg. He went down fast, rendered unconscious.

“Do you think he’ll tell anyone when he wakes up?”

“About the Red Demon and his cute young lover?”

“We’re almost the same age.”

Akabayashi shook his head with a laugh and turned away, ignoring Egor’s interjection. “Who’d believe him?”


	41. Sharaku Eijirou & Friends

The sudden blow to the back of Eijirou’s head had him stumbling forward, but he managed to stay on his feet. It had been a lucky shot that was more opportunistic than planned, as the punk behind him had waited until Eijirou had been distracted before attacking.

Izumii, that brat, was nowhere to be seen. He’d taken off after Eijirou had stepped in to break up his fight, leaving him alone to fight the delinquents battles.

If only he’d spent as much time avoiding fights as he seemed to spend on his shitty hair.

Now really wasn’t the time for Eijirou to be making fun of that idiots hair though. Another carload of punks had just pulled up, each exiting the vehicle with makeshift weapons.

“Oi, old man!” One yelled, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to look more menacing. “If you beg for forgiveness now, maybe we’ll let you off, eh?”

It was clear to everyone involved that, even if Eijirou were to comply with that request, he wouldn’t be allowed to leave so easily. What the his attackers didn’t know, however, was that Eijirou had been pulling his punches.

Despite what his family might think, he’d always been aware of his family’s reputation. Eijirou wanted to stop the fight, not tarnish his family’s name, and hadn’t wanted to put too many people in hospital.

Unfortunately, he now felt the time for kindness had passed.

With a laugh, he spun his body around rapidly, launching a kick powerful enough to break a telephone pole straight into one of his attackers stomachs.

His victim flew backward, screaming at the top of his lungs, and knocked three others onto the ground.

The other five rushed him, figuring a group attack might have them fare better. One smashed at Eijirou’s head with a crowbar, only to miss at the last second when his target dodged. The force of the spin was too much to stop, and he wound up knocking his comrade’s teeth in instead.

With no time to think, he couldn’t dodge Eijirou’s rear kick in in time, and went soaring backward through the air.

At the same time, Eijirou sent a double punch at two of his attackers. He felt the skin of his knuckles threaten to break as his fists collided with their faces, and frowned just a little.

It was so unnecessary.

Still, that didn’t stop him from twisting his left wrist after the collision, turning his punch into a backfist that knocked his final attacker out instantly.

Looking around at the mess of bodies, Eijirou sighed heavily. He hadn’t so much as broken a sweat, and yet almost a dozen men were on the ground.

“That brat.” He winced as he scratched the back of his head. If only Izumii would listen to him, things like this wouldn’t happen.

How would that guy get on as an adult if he was this reckless now?

As he shoved his hands into his pockets, Eijirou decided he’d just have to help him regardless. Maybe dragging him into the dojo and knocking some sense into him would help.


	42. Orihara Izaya & Kishitani Shinra

“I’d rather not.”

“Orihara-kun, it’s for the club! Don’t you have any spirit?”

“The club ended with middle school, Shinra.” Taking an anxious step away from the bespectacled boy with the needle, Izaya narrowed his eyes. “Whatever you’re planning-”

“Who says I’m planning anything?” Shinra replied, indignant at the (accurate) accusation.

“Why else would you suddenly be interested in my blood? I’m not Shizu-chan.”

Shifting awkwardly, Shinra’s smile became a little sheepish as he lowered the needle.

“Are you serious?” Laughing at his own question, Izaya couldn’t help but feel insulted. “Are you honestly using me to trap that beast?!”

“Well, he does say he can smell you-”

“I smell perfectly fine!”

“Then this will prove him wrong!” With renewed enthusiasm, as though he really believed that his logic could sway Izaya, Shinra steps toward him. “Then you won’t have to keep switching cologne!”

“I am not switching my cologne for him!” Stepping backward at the same pace as Shinra, Izaya stumbled, his back hitting the wall behind him. “It won’t work!”

“Prove me wrong, Orihara-kun!” Shinra replied with a broad smile, lifting the needle as if it were a knife. “Dont move or it’ll hurt!”

Izaya closed his eyes, unwilling to actually fight his way out. He didn’t want to incapacitate Shinra, and if was only going to be quick…

Zrrt-zrrt!

Shinra’s phone buzzed in his pocket, causing him to forget all about his murderous-looking act. He dropped the needle and used his hand to reach into his pocket, dragging it out quickly so he could see who had messaged him.

“CELTY! Celty is cooking me dinner! Can you believe it, Orihara-kun?! We’’re really meant to b- eh?!”

Looking up, it was only now that Shinra realised he’d been gushing to the wall. With a smile, he laughed to himself and replied to his future wife happily. He’d catch Izaya again later.


	43. Kuzuhara Kinnosuke/Shiki Haruya

It isn’t until the car slows to a stop that Shiki looks up from his phone, confused as to why they had pulled over. Their destination is at least another ten minutes away, and there really isn’t any time for the driver to use the bathroom.

“Sir, I’m holding it.” The driver says quickly, as if he’d read Shiki’s mind. “We’ve been pulled over- But there’s nothing wrong with the vehicle! And I was driving carefully!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shiki closes his eyes. They really don’t have time for this, but a high speed police chase is the last thing he needs.

“Get your license out and be polite.”

“Yes sir!”

A shadow creeps by Shiki’s window as the driver starts to fumble with his pockets. Shiki keeps his eyes closed, deciding that stepping in might only make things worse. God, he hopes this isn’t what he thinks it is.

**_Knock knock._ **

The knocking on Shiki’s window almost makes him jump, as he hadn’t been exactly expecting it. He isn’t the one driving, and there is no reason for the police to want to speak with him. Despite the obvious, he still hopes beyond hope that this is a standard traffic stop. No matter what it is, he knows that it would be rude of him to ignore the totally incompetent officer, and so signals for the driver to roll his window down for him.

“License and registration.”

Ah.

“I’m not driving.”

“Are you controlling the direction this vehicle is headed?”

“I’m not operating the vehicle.”

“Step outside.”

Shiki doesn’t comply immediately, choosing instead to shoot his driver a loaded glance before slowly unbuckling his seatbelt. This entire situation is ridiculous, and though it isn’t his driver’s fault in any way, he can’t help but want scare him a little anyway.

After all, those who are afraid keep their silence.

There is a clear fight for power taking place, albeit a silent one, and Shiki is determined to keep his place. He mightn’t be able to best the irritating officer, but he won’t fall beneath his heel, either.

Slowly, as though he’s calculating each move carefully, Shiki places a hand on the handle of the door and pulls. It opens easily, forcing the officer to take a reluctant step backward.

Though the officer would have had to move regardless, a very small, very smug smile pulls at one corner of Shiki’s lips. That’s one battle won, if nothing else.

With the air of a politician and the confidence of a serial killer, Shiki pulls himself out of the door and snaps it behind him forcefully. He leans against it in a way that looks almost casual, ensuring his voice sounds as bored as possible.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Tail light is busted. The blinking light is distracting to other drivers.”

It’s a lie that Shiki doesn’t bother checking. Despite his low position, he trusts his driver, and knows full well he’d been truthful when he’d said the car was fine.

Which means, he thinks to himself as he barely contains the roll of his eyes, that the officer is referring to when his driver indicated before turning the last corner.

“It appears to be in working order now.”

The officer gestures toward the light with a nudge of his head. “It’s not lit up. Means it’s busted.”

“My driver has switched the engine of-”

“You think you can talk your way out of this?” The officer interrupts as he steps forward and removes his helmet, tucking it under an arm as he smiles. “Don’t underestimate the traffic cops, kid.”

“You’re _barely_ older than I am, Kinnosuke. You can’t call me _kid_.”

“Tch!” The helmet falls to the ground and rolls sadly to the gutter where it stops, and Kuzuhara grabs at Shiki’s shoulder. He turns him around, twisting his arm into his back, and shoves him against the car. “You can’t hide from me, _Haruya_. I’m taking a look inside the trunk.”

Gritting his teeth but for reasons that have nothing to do with frustration, Shiki arches his back slightly despite himself. He keeps his silence, if only barely, as Kuzuhara’s free hand trails down from his shoulder, to his side, before finally resting on his hip.

It squeezes slightly, in a way that’s almost possessive, before sliding between the area Shiki’s hip is pressed against the car, then continues down his thigh to his knee. Nails threaten to scratch the sensitive skin of his lower thigh, but thankfully, Kuzuhara’s gloves stop that from happening. For the first time in a while, Shiki is glad that his idiotic policeman is still wearing them.

Still, his memories seem to be enough for him, and he sighs heavily- something that is totally unrelated to the surprisingly gentle touches disguised as roughness. Happy with his victory, Kuzuhara releases Shiki immediately. The latter stays pressed against the door of the car, feeling betrayed by how unsteady his legs seem to be, and doesn’t fight the heavyweight pressed against his back.

“There’s going to be a raid at your apartment tonight.” A deep voice that has no business being used in public chuckles into his ear. “Make sure you’re home.”

Shiki doesn’t remember Kuzuhara walking away, or getting himself back into the car. In fact, he’s still not totally sure how he ends up at his meeting only minutes later.

The only thing he is sure of is that he isn’t going to let his clingy boyfriend away with this sort of behaviour.


	44. Sonohara Sayaka/Akabayashi Mizuki

“Mizuki, are you planning on sleeping all day?”

The combination of the sweet voice and the smell of breakfast had Akabayashi smiling, and he rolled onto his side before opening his eyes. The morning light seeped through the curtains behind Sayaka, making her outline shine as if she were an angel.

“What time is it?”

“Just after seven.” She replied, moving quietly toward the bed before placing the small breakfast tray down beside him. “Anri wanted to see you before she left this morning.”

“She said that?”

“Of course not, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Smiling softly, Akabayashi pushed himself into a seated position as he looked over the large breakfast he’d been brought. Sayaka must be nervous if she’d gone to the trouble of making all of this, he decided. She always seemed to try and work out her nervous energy through cooking, which was why he’d put on at least two kilograms during the first few weeks they’d been dating, and another three in the lead up to their wedding.

“Guess high school is a pretty big deal for kids these days.” Poking the omelette with his chopsticks, he couldn’t quite hide the pride he felt for Anri in voice. Sure, she wasn’t his kid, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t _his kid_ , if that made any sense. “I can walk her to the gate, give all those boys a look at who they’re messing with.”

“Not every boy is as persistent as you were.” Sayaka giggled, climbing over Akabayashi and to her side of the bed. His arm moved to snake around her waist before she’d even become settled, pulling her closer for a quick kiss.

“Well I’m glad I didn’t take no for an answer. I managed to win you over with that persistence!”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think.” He leaned in for another kiss, only to have his lips covered with one of her hands. “Huh?”

“It’s actually the face you’re pulling now.” She laughed, moving her hand away to plant a quick kiss of her own. “You looked so sad, I couldn’t keep saying no.”

“Heh.” Ignoring the food, Akabayashi wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close. He lowered his head so that he could nuzzle her neck, and took a deep breath in through his nose. She always smelled so good, like fruit and warmth. “Well that’s because I’d be sad without you.”

Sayaka squeezed him back, but her arms seemed to slowly lose their strength. He closed his eyes, silently praying that this was real.

When he finally opened them again, the room was dark and he was alone. He released the pillow he’d been gripping to his chest and rolled onto his back, and ran a hand through his hair.

“That was cruel.” He laughed sadly, unable to think of something else to do. Maybe next time he shouldn’t wake up.


	45. Akabayashi Mizuku/Aozaki Shu

It had taken longer than Akabayashi had anticipated for him to open his café. He’d spent quite a lot of time designing everything, right down to where the windows were positioned, and to say he was proud would be an understatement.

  
It was beautiful in it’s simplicity, and had already received quite a few (uncoerced) compliments from the Awakusu-kai underlings.

  
As he sat in the centre of it, he pulled a small flask out of his cane and poured himself a shot of something fruity and sweet. He’d open the café up for business shortly, maybe invite the young princess in for a tour, but for now he wanted to rest.

  
Of course, that may be too much to ask for.

  
A series of grunts and loud stomps free Akabayashi’s attention outside. He peeked over the wall of the café, unsurprised to find an angry Blue Demon looking at him with distaste.

  
“We’’re closed.”

  
“What do you mean, ‘We’re closed’?” Aozaki replied bitterly.

  
“It means we aren’t open.”

  
Anyone who had been unfortunate enough to be nearby scattered, not wanting to become caught in the crossfire. It was unclear why Aozaki was visiting the café in the first place, but it would he only natural to assume his intentions weren’t pure.

  
“I’m not paying you protection money.”

  
“Huh?!”

  
“This place should be on the protected list already, since it’s run by us.”

  
“The fuck are you talking about?” Aozaki asked angrily, stepping forward to kick some sand at the café. “You’re in a fucking sand fort.”

  
“It’s a sand café.”

  
“It’s made of sand!”

  
“You have no imagination.”

  
Repulsed and enraged by Akabayashi’s shittiness, Aozaki took another step forward. It felt almost like a flashback to his younger days, back when he’d mess around with people’s businesses.

  
“Don’t mess with my café, Aozaki.”

  
“Stop callin’ it a café!” Drawing his leg backward, Aozaki made to kick at the front wall of the sand fort, only to stop inches away from it when he heard a familiar voice.

  
“Wow!” Both of the Yakuza turned to see an excited Akane trotting toward them, an impressed look on her face. “Oi-chan! Can I make some tea?”

  
Akabayashi nodded happily, and shot a smug look toward a pouting Aozaki. “I told you, we’re on the protected list.”

  
“Tch!”

  
With that, Aozaki wandered off (though not too far), leaving Akabayashi, Akane, and her seventeen subtle bodyguards to their playdate.


	46. Drakon/Vorona's Mother & Vorona/Slon

_“She’s a lot like you.”_

Even though several years had passed, Drakon could still hear his late wife’s words as clearly as they’d first been said. Vorona had only been a toddler then, a child who was surprisingly curious and quiet, but had managed to get up to all sorts of mischief despite that.

She’d been a child with the potential to misbehave, but always seemed to err on the side of caution. She was smart, logical, and made calculated decisions. It brought great delight to some of the other adults, but Drakon never seemed too phased by it. Some assumed it was indifference, but two others saw it for what it was.

_“I’d expect nothing less from her.”_

Sixteen years may have passed, but as Drakon perused the photographs that had been taken of his daughter as she’d abandoned their camp, he couldn’t help but see the toddler he’d spoken about all those years ago.

She’d changed, yes. Grown taller, stronger, and had learned an incredible amount- but her face was still set in that same, stubborn frown, and her hair trailed behind her just as her mothers did.

Regardless, she needed to be captured and punished. It wouldn’t be good to be lenient on deserters, especially ones who took an arsenal with them, and he couldn’t afford to look weak. Surely, they’d lose several dozen men as they attempted to bring her back, but it would be better than-

“She’s a lot like you.”

Whether Lingerin knew that those words would have such an effect was debatable, but they stopped Drakon’s line of thinking regardless. With a short nod to signal that he’d heard, he continued to flip through the photographs, stopping once he found something that seemed doctored.

Thumping toward Drakon, Lingerin made a pleased sort of noise as he looked over his shoulder. “I’ll send Egor in a week.”

“I can retrieve them myself. They have not yet left the country.”

“I’ll send Egor in a week.”

After slapping a hand on Drakon’s shoulder, Lingerin wandered off, leaving him to his devices. With a frown, he looked at the photograph in his hands, studying it intently.

Vorona’s frown was still there, but the corner of her lips had seemed to tilt upward slightly,  as if she were trying to hide a smile. She was running slightly behind the oaf who’d gone with her, and their fingertips seemed to be grazing against each other, as if they were wanting to hold hands.

It reminded him of something, or rather a moment lost in time. With an uncharacteristic sigh, he dropped the photograph onto the table in front of him and closed his eyes.

“We’ll send Egor in a week.”


	47. Kadota Kyohei/Rocchi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For dotaccino

“What about America?”

“Too far.”

“Every place is too far for you.”

“Like you can talk, you said that Okinawa was too far away.”

“If we go there, then we’ll have those friends of yours hiding in our suitcases. Besides, it’s so cliche!” Chikage rolled slightly away from the man he was spooning and lifted a hand into the air as if it would help him make his point. “If we’re getting on a plane, I want to go somewhere we can find-”

“Cute girls?” Kadota finished, his eyes half closed and his breathing deep and relaxed. “There are cute girls in Okinawa.”

“There are so many tourists there that none will require our assistance.”

“The only assistance they require is getting away from you when you’re feeling chivalrous.” Feigning jealousy, Kadota jabbed Chikage’s bare chest with his elbow lightly, earning a chuckle for his efforts. “Why do we have to go anywhere?”

“Don’t you want to go somewhere with me?” Chikage dropped his hand, letting it fall around Kadota’s waist as if by accident. “I’ll protect you.”

“Like I need you to protect me. Hell, I need someone to protect me from _you_.”

“You say that like you’ve never beaten the crap out of me.”

Groaning, Kadota rolled himself over and buried his face in Chikage’s neck. “You’re never going to let that go.”

“It hurt, you know.”

“…”

“My face was all bloodied.”

“…”

“It took four beautiful girls to heal me-”

Kadota cut him off with a loud sigh, his arm reaching over Chikage’s waist to trace circles into his skin. “I want to go back into the coma.”

“You seemed pretty comatose after what we did earlier. I thought I’d need to call that doctor friend of yours.”

“Please stop talking.” The reply was muffled, with Kadota’s lips pressed firmly against the already discoloured skin of Chikage’s neck.

The intimate gesture had Chikage trembling, goosebumps rising on his skin as he sucked a shallow breath through his nose. “That’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“I never… took you for someone who… played dirty like this.”

“Like what?” Replying as though he were the most innocent man in the world, Kadota let his teeth brush against Chikage’s skin, lightly nipping at it until he was rudely flipped onto his back.

“Like this.” Chikage’s weight moved between Kadota’s legs, the thin cloth of their underwear the only thing separating them. His lips brushed against Kadota’s neck roughly, any finesse he may have been known for vanishing into thin air now he was on top of his prey.

It was something that had always surprised Kadota, given how gentle Chikage seemed to be with his many girlfriends. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy turning Chikage into someone a little less able to control himself.

“Let me take your beanie off.”

“It is off.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

Moving a hand slowly up Kadota’s body, Chikage revelled in Kadota’s trembling as his fingers brushed against his naked skin. It left the man beneath him unable to reply, his eyes half-lidded as he fought a losing battle to keep each breath even. When his fingers reached Kadota’s face, Chikage stilled his movements, instead taking the opportunity to caress the skin of his cheeks instead.

“How does a guy have such soft skin?” He asked quietly, leaning down almost far enough to bump their noses.

“Shut up.” Kadota replied, but he didn’t sound all that convincing now that he was leaning into Chikage’s palm. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a guy.”

“Or what? Are you gonna teach me a lesson?”

It seemed as though Kadota had been planning on doing just that, and leaned forward quickly to attempt a kiss. Unfortunately, Chikage predicted the action, and moved himself further up just as his fingers moved to snag the beanie. He pulled it off Kadota’s head roughly and rolled himself off, laughing at how the pout and messy hair seemed to make the latter look childish.

“Oi! That’s not fair!”

“You said you weren’t wearing your beanie, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“C’mon, give it back.”

“Give what back?”

“I’ll fight you.”

“Kyohei-sama, please don’t fight me! I don’t want to be beaten up again!”

Kadota’s entire body turned red at the mention of his name, and he could barely manage to spit out a small “Wha-!” before he realised he was being played. With a quickness that still surprised Chikage, Kadota rolled himself on top of him and pinned his arms by his sides. He stared down at him through the few stray hairs that tried to obscure his view, a serious look on his face.

“You should be nicer.” He mumbled, trying to ignore the way Chikage’s body jerked as he was laughing. “People think I’m the leader of the Dollars, y’know.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.” Despite trying very, very hard not to laugh at his boyfriend, Chikage’s voice came out slightly choked nonetheless. “Are you gonna beat me up?”

After several long seconds of staring, Kadota nodded firmly. “Something like that.”

No matter how many times they’d done this, neither man could ever say he was truly unsurprised by any kiss he received from the other. It always felt new, fresh, and made their hearts hurt in addictive ways. Chikage, despite having kissed quite a few women, had even wondered if he’d ever really kissed anyone before Kadota had kissed him because of how totally different it felt.

So as Kadota leaned down, their breath seemed to catch and time seemed to move more slowly. It felt like the definition of feeling, like there was nothing before or after, only this moment leading up to this kiss-

**_BANG!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

“Dotachin!”

“ _Fuck_!”

With the elegance and weightlessness of elephants, Chikage and Kadota panicked. Chikage was either pushed or had rolled off the bed and under it, whilst Kadota wrapped a sheet around his chest. His bedroom door flew open just as he’d managed to pull his beanie back on.

“It’s breakfast time, master.” Erika brought the tray she was holding over to the bed and placed it on the end. “Did master sleep well?”

“Oh, y-yeah… thanks…” Kadota replied, hoping Erika wouldn’t be too scandalised by his naked arms. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“That’s all right, master. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that’s- Wait-” Remembering that Erika was not a maid, and that he lived alone, an incredulous look found its way to Kadota’s face. “The fuc- Karisawa! What are you-!”

“I made enough for two! I won’t tell your lover about our lovechild!”

“Lovechi- Get out!”

Luckily for Kadota, Erika tried to explain which manga she was roleplaying as she left the room, which was just enough to cover the sounds of Chikage’s laughter from beneath the bed.

Sighing heavily, Kadota flopped back onto the bed and covered his face with a pillow.

He really wished he could go back into that coma.


	48. Shiki/Sheek/Sheeking

The door closed almost silently, the sound of a key turning in the lock seeming to echo through the minimally decorated office. It had been a long, hard day, despite the fact that it was still only early afternoon.

Walking purposefully toward his desk, Shiki stopped when he reached the end of it to look down at the piles of paperwork that littered it. This happened more often than it should, he thought, and only when his informant was attempting to hide something. Both he and Orihara knew very well that Shiki loathed paperwork, which is precisely the reason why he’d flood him with it whenever there was something he didn’t want to be seen.

It pissed Shiki off.

Not that anyone would be able to tell by looking at him, given that his expression was usually a scowl of some description on days like today. He wanted nothing more than to sweep it from his desk with a single movement, and to watch as dozens of pages fell limply onto the ground. If he were to do that, however, he’d either be left cleaning it or glaring at a subordinate as if to dare him to ask him about it.

It would also mean that he’d lose the precious little time he had to take care of a different sort of hardness.

Silently, he made his way over to his chair and sat himself down, gripping the arms tightly. He shouldn’t be doing this, not when the walls were so thin, but he was certain that he’d be able to stay quiet this time.

He moved his left hand to the zip of his pants, and pressed the tip of his index finger into the line of his zip. A throaty groan rumbled around in his throat, but he managed to swallow it, the only sound escaping him a the whisper of a sigh.

Yeah, he could do this quietly. No one had to know.

Encouraged by his newfound confidence, he unzipped himself hastily, not bothering to unbutton himself and simply allowing his erection to spring forth like some sort of fucked up exhibit in a haunted house. He gazed at it happily, appreciating just how naughty he was being, then gripped the shaft tightly with his hand.

_“Sh-Sheek yeah!”_

He paused his movements, taking a moment to steady himself. He had to be quiet, lest Aozaki overhear him again and he was forced to watch the muscular annoyance blush. At least, he assumed that’s what Aozaki was doing.

Thinking about The Blue Demon seemed to calm him somewhat, and he began to pump at himself whilst managing to remain mute. His fingers, calloused after years of fighting and disciplining, rubbed at the soft skin of his cock deliciously. He squeezed himself gently, alternating the pressure as his strokes steadily became longer.

God, no one one could touch Shiki like Shiki could touch Shiki. No one else knew their way around his dick like this, or knew which spots to pinch and which spots to rub. Not even a warm, wet, and eager mouth could satisfy him nearly as much.

Once another stroke reached the tip of his cock, he watched as his thumb grazed the end of it roughly, as if it had a life of its own. The sensation had him shivering, mumbling a lusftul _“What a sheeky little thumb you are,”_ as he started to buck into his palm.

His chair began to groan loudly, the wheels scraping obnoxiously against the floor as Shiki touched himself. The concerns he’d had earlier about being too loud faded into the back of his mind, and all that was left was his cock, and his hand.

 _“Sheeking off in the office, you naughty little Shleek!”_ He taunted himself, rising from his chair to bend over his desk as he placed his free hand on top of it. In a position like this, he could almost forget that he wasn’t fucking himself in a more traditional way. “You- _Sheek yes!-_ You like it when I _Sh-Sheek you_ this hard? You perverted little _Sheek_!”

Shiki’s hips thrust wildly into his palm as the desk started to creep along the floor with the force. Half the office could hear him now, but he didn’t give a damn. There was nothing wrong with Sheeking yourself off when you had a rager the size of the Tokyo Skytree- in fact, it would be irresponsible to walk around with such a deadly weapon.

A familiar feeling started to dance beneath his skin, and Shiki welcomed it like an old friend. His palms were sweaty and covered with precum, allowing him to slide easily in and out of his palm as he called to his own name.

_“Sheeker! Sheeker! Sheeker! **SHEEKER** -!”_

With a loud cry, Shiki came with enough force to rival a Tsunami, the waves of pleasure and semen covering the desk and all of Orihara’s tedious paperwork. He continued to rock himself into his palm until he was fully empty, then he fell into the chair behind him.

Within ten seconds, his face was as stern as it usually was and he’d zipped himself up. He straightened his suit, then sent a text to one of his subordinates instructing them to force Niekawa to clean up the mess in his office.

After that, he quickly left, knowing that round two would be far too loud for such a crowded area.


	49. Egor/Akabayashi

“Again?” **  
**

Watching as his lover’s eyes changed colour, Akabayashi wondered just how much control Saika had over Egor. It seemed awfully convenient that ‘mother’ would call each time they were having a disagreement, but there really wasn’t all that much he could do about it.

Listening to Saika was the same as needing to piss, Akabayashi reasoned. It was something that couldn’t be helped, and he could only hope that it would be over quickly.

“You’re really cruel to Oi-chan, you know.” Rubbing at the phantom pain making the place where his eye used to be ache, Akabayashi sighed. “Is this some sort of payback?”

Egor was silent, turning toward Akabayashi slowly.

“Ah, so you can hear me then.”

“…”

“Look, you already took my eye, and the… woman.” Fumbling a little more than he would have liked on the last word, Akabayashi gripped his cane a little more tightly. “Taking him too… it’s overkill, isn’t it?”

Though Saika remained silent, The Red Demon could feel her response. Egor was hers, because she loved him. She loved Akabayashi too, and she’d forgive him. All he had to do was let himself be loved.

It was as though he’d been hypnotised, as he had no recollection of Egor approaching him. The assassin was gripping something small in his fingers, his long arms moving quickly as he swung at his boyfriend.

With the speed of someone much younger, Akabayashi jumped backward, using his cane to knock what seemed to be a paperclip out of Egor’s hands.

“You’re not as fast as him.” He laughed, jumping away again as Egor charged.

Saika had the upperhand whenever this happened, given that Akabayashi simply refused to murder her host. Luckily, the furniture store they’d been squabbling in had quite a lot of cover for Akabayashi to use, and the confusion as the other customers started to flee made things a little easier.

It was almost fun, and the Red Demon had to admit that he enjoyed the idea of having Egor chase him around. Having a sword chase him using Egor’s body was a bit less amusing, but if Akabayashi really focused, he could almost forget about that minor detail.

Leaping from one couch to a show bed, Akabayashi kept a firm grip on his cane. Egor was running at him, barrelling through a study set and sending several chairs and prop books flying. The Red Demon simply smiled at that, crouching down in order to shift his centre of gravity as he held his cane like a baseball bat. He’d have one shot at knocking Egor over, and though it was an obvious move, he sincerely believed that he’d be able to do just that.

With a voiceless cry, Egor sprung slipped on a pillow but managed to use the momentum to his advantage. He flew through the air with his arms outstretched, reaching toward Akabayashi menacingly.

Grinning, Akabayashi took a swing just as he noticed Egor’s eyes changing colour from red to blue. He released his grip on the cane, sending it careening through the air and to the opposite side of the store where it smashed into a television, just as Egor tackled him onto the bed.

Now on top of Akabayashi, Egor lay there motionless, catching his breath as he tried to figure out just what had happened.

“If you want the plain sofa that much, then just say so.” Akabayashi chuckled after a few minutes, his lips moving against the skin of Egor’s neck as his hands rubbed his back. “No need to throw a tantrum.”


	50. Orihara Izaya/Kishitani Shinra

“Orihara-kun?” Shinra questioned, a little confused to see his friend-in-name-only staring at him from the bedroom door. “Shouldn’t you be at school? You’re going to miss second period.”

Izaya’s smirk faltered as he entered the room, not being even slightly prepared enough to see his friend’s pale face smiling up at him.

It had been four days since Nakura had attacked them, and since Shinra had taken the stabbing in his place. Being questioned by the police had been a walk in the park compared to the horrific replays he was burdened with once he closed his eyes, and it had taken a lot more sneakiness than usual for Izaya to sneak out of his home.

“Didn’t you hear? I’ve been suspended.”

“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. You did tell them you stabbed me.” Shinra chuckled, as if the idea of Izaya ever hurting him was absurd. Unfortunately, laughter really wasn’t the best medicine when it came to stab wounds, and the action had him wincing and clutching his side. “Weird, isn’t it? Since you saved me from-”

“Don’t.” Izaya took two steps toward Shinra’s bed as he reached out a hand. Regardless of who actually thrust the knife into Shinra’s side, Izaya was indirectly responsible for it.

“-from a lot of blood loss.” Shinra finished his sentence, a strange smile on his face as he ignored Izaya’s hand dropping back down. “You aren’t a hero, Orihara-kun. Me, on the other hand… I saved you, didn’t I?”

“…I don’t… understand…” Likely because it made absolutely no sense. “That-”

“To look good. I didn’t do it out of any sort of love for you, don’t worry! Besides, isn’t that what friends do?”

“…”

“I guess it makes me your best friend, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Despite the earlier punishment Shinra received for laughing, he couldn’t quite stop himself from doing it again. He laughed a little too heartily at Izaya’s strange expression, the chuckles mixing with his groans of pain as the stitches in his side felt close to bursting.

Without realising, or even thinking, Izaya approached the bed quickly. His concern served only to fuel Shinra’s laughter, his hands awkwardly reaching to press on Shinra’s as they held his stitches together.

“Stop it, you’re killing me!”

“Shut up!”

“Orihara-kun, you- haha! You really should see your face!”

“I told you to shut up!”

“Do you really feel this bad? Haha! I guess you really do love huma- mmph!”

Shinra’s mocking was cut off by a desperate kiss, Izaya’s teeth clanged against his painfully as their lips moving hesitantly against each other. It was strange and awkward, as if both of the boys were attempting to recreate what they’d only seen in movies.

After a few long seconds, Izaya pulled away, resting his forehead against Shinra’s as he looked at the others closed eyes.

_“You aren’t just another human, Shinra.”_

The words were whispered quickly, as if it took great pains for Izaya to make the admission. The bespectacled boy opened his eyes just in time to watch Izaya’s back leave the room, and he found himself thankful as he didn’t know just what to say in reply.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Nakura was possibly the unluckiest kid in all of Tokyo.


	51. Akabayashi/Aozaki/Slon/????

It was hot, and though Aozaki was used to the heat, he couldn’t seem to steady himself today. Sweat drenched him, and he found the sensation to be disgustingly familiar. If it were _his_ sweat, then maybe he’d be fine, but for it to be some Russian punks… Disgusting.

“Oi, Akabastard!” He called out to Akabayashi, who was sprawled lazily on the sand without a care in the world, “Do your fucking job and wipe Slon’s back! It stinks and feels like shit!”

Akabayashi smiled in the way only a beach towel could, and made no movements. “And how can I do that? It’s not like I have arms.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re a sneak, and sneaks find a way.” Aozaki mumbled, wishing he was anything but a bikini. If he were at least a bikini for a woman, that would be one thing, but his misogyny made it almost impossible to give women the support they needed. Which is why he’d been gifted to Slon by Vorona, who had known about the Russian giants fetish for female swimwear.

Akabayashi laughed, the sand beneath him unmoved because he was a beach towel, and beach towels didn’t shudder when they laughed. “If you have a problem, maybe you should take it up with Kazamoto. He made sure to get Slon all nice and slippery for you.”

Kazamoto, the sunscreen, didn’t reply. He was completely spent and basking in the afterglow, having been milked of the white cream that lay within his plastic bottle.

“Yeah? Well, you’re more slippery than he is, even if you are a fucking towel.”

Slon shifted on Akabayashi, his bikini-clad ass grinding against the beach towel and sending a chill down his body. Perhaps he knew of the argument and was attempting to break it up? It was certainly one answer for why his fingers moved to his chest and started to run circles around his perky nipples.

“ _Hnnn_!”

“ _Aozaki_ …” Akabayashi breathed, relishing in the way the assassins tight ass rubbed against his flimsy material.

“Sh-Shut up…” Aozaki replied, though it didn’t sound as angry as it should have. It couldn’t be helped though, not when Slon was fingering his strings and literally unravelling him.

With a soft thud, he was soon cast from Slon’s body, falling atop Akabayashi gracelessly before the human collapsed on top of him. His panties were soon kicked off, and Slon began touching himself as he pressed the towel and string bikini together.

It didn’t take long for Slon’s own version of sunscreen to be sent flying onto the sand, and for Aozaki and Akabayashi to wish that they too could release.

But alas, they couldn’t. Only Kazamoto could, and the duo were left frustrated once again.


	52. Slon/Vorona

Slon was, and always had been, a terrifying force of nature. Even as a teenager, he’d had a reputation that seemed to follow him (though no one knew who he was, given that he was already able to expertly cover his tracks). He was highly trained, incredibly strong, and had a thirst for knowledge.

By the time he was in his early twenties, he’d managed to rise within the ranks of a certain business, and had even been brought in as a consultant when younger recruits were being trained. Not to mention the few records he’d broken, such as the infamous torture test. He’d been the only one to last more than five minute without screaming as he was being worked on, instead worrying his assessors who feared that he may have died (only to discover later that he had been silently attempting to work out just why his entrails were the colour they were).

All this, on top of his ability to adapt quickly to new situations and get impossible jobs done, meant that he had become something special to a certain arms dealer. It didn’t take long for special treatment to soon follow, with Slon receiving a personalised name and a bottle of high end Vodka one chilly afternoon.

The Vodka was supposed to be shared, he realised, and after adjusting his clothing to make himself look as presentable as possible, Slon made his way through the camp and toward his benefactor. Lingerin had a reputation throughout the camp as being a somewhat eccentric man, though Slon had never really seen that side of him before and put the thought out of his mind.

Eccentricities weren’t necessarily a bad thing, and even if they were, it wasn’t as if a madman could successfully run a business and coordinate this many people.

That reasoning, though logical and solid, was dismissed the moment Slon entered Lingerin’s quarters.

“…”

“Ah! Slon! Are you hungry?” Lingerin asked happily, roasting the full leg of ham he’d speared on a fire poker over a barrel. Why he was using a barrel instead of the fireplace, or even a makeshift oven, was a mystery. “It’s all darkside.”

“I’m… huh? I mean-”

“No need to be polite, boy. It’s just ham.”

“Right.” Slon eyed the ham cautiously, and wondered if this were a test of some sort. Even if it wasn’t a test, and the ham was being improperly cooked, it had been over a month since he’d eaten meat. “Yes, then.”

The answer seemed to be the right one, as Lingerin laughed quite loudly to himself before demanding Slon take over the roasting. He was an old man, he said, with old arms that couldn’t roast a ham over a barrel like they used to. To his credit, Slon realised that the statement wasn’t something he should reply to, and took over the roasting as Lingerin puttered about.

Half an hour later, the ham was as done as it was ever going to be and Slon’s arm was beginning to ache. Lingerin had been doing something noisy in another room, leaving Slon to his increasingly panicked thoughts.

It was weird, inviting a man over for ham. Even weirder that to make him cook the ham over a barrel. Maybe it was a threat? If Lingerin were really that strange, maybe he was subtle as well, maybe Slon was the ham and Lingerin was the barrel and- God, what was he doing in the other room?!

His thoughts were interrupted by two measured raps on the door, making Slon’s blood run cold. It was all so obvious now.

Lingerin had heard about Slon’s talks with Denis and Simon before they’d left, and obviously thought that Slon was planning on leaving as well. He probably thought that he was hiding money, and that he’d been learning Japanese in order to try and escape. God, he’d gotten really good at Japanese as well, according to Simon anyway, which meant that he’d probably fit into Japan really well.

As Lingerin walked past Slon and toward the door, the latter held his breath and turned the ham, and waited for his impending death.

“Slon, you’ve been very good to us.” Lingerin said happily, not caring that Slon was staring at the ham with more fire than the barrel had. “It’s time you had a gift.”

“A gift?” Well, wasn’t that unexpected. “The vodka…?”

“Vodka comes easily! This is better!”

Slon looked up, his brows furrowing as he tried to work out just what Lingerin was offering. Behind him stood a beautiful girl, still a teenager, who looked familiar. Wasn’t she- Just what sort of gift was this?! That was Drakon’s daughter, Vorona, and Lingerin was just offering her up like some sort of whore?

Not to mention the fact that all her previous partners were dead. Maintaining the most neutral expression he could muster, Slon wondered if the term “killer body” might be more literal in this case.

“Slon, toleration of our partnership will be necessary.” The blond spoke, her tone strained as if she didn’t want to be there. “Congratulations.”

Oh God, he was going to die.

“Thanks, uh…” It wasn’t that Vorona wasn’t beautiful, but Slon honestly didn’t think he’d be able to get it up and receive his gift. He really didn’t want to fuck some princess whilst an old man watched. Being hardened by combat was an entirely different thing to being a pervert. “Are we… doing this here?”

“Yes! That’s why we have the ham!”

Oh God, the ham.

“I’ve… never with a ham…” Admitting inexperience was a risky thing, but it was better than making a false move. “How do I…”

Vorona looked at him with a peculiar expression, as if she were sizing him up. “With utensils.”

Utensils?!

Just what sort of perverts were they?

“I’ll get a carving knife.”

As Lingerin stumbled off, Slon watched his life flash before his eyes. Nothing good was about to happen, that much he knew, and he felt a cold sweat drip down his back. Attacking was usually better than defending, he’d learned, so he braced himself as he rotated the ham.

“Vorona… I’ve never done… I’m not used to an audience. I know you’ve got some pull, and I don’t want to offend or anything, but if you’re going to be my present then-”

“Negative. I am no gift.”

“Your modesty isn’t-”

“Negative.”

“What?”

“What ‘what’?”

“Why are you here?”

Vorona’s expression shifted from curious to annoyed in under a second. “We are to enter into a partnership, against my wishes. I declare, I will not hesitate to kill you if you become burdensome. Self-preservation is important, and I will leave you behind.”

With a relieved sigh, the pieces started to fall into place. “So you aren’t my gift?”

“Partnership with me is a gift, but I am not a possession. I resent your implication, but will remain silent as professional courtesy.”

“Right, right…” Relieved that he wasn’t going to be forced to perform sex acts with deli foods, the reality of the situation began to creep in. Vorona was a woman, and women were the weaker sex. For her to accuse him of potentially becoming a burden was ludicrous!

Well, if worst came worst, he’d leave her behind as well. It wasn’t as if a cold woman like him would ever be interesting, so it wasn’t likely to become a problem in the future. Slon thought about the potential outcomes of their partnership silently, before he was interrupted by Vorona once again.

“Slon.”

“Yeah?”

“Your sleeve has ignited.”

The sentence was almost giggled, and Slon found himself unable to respond immediately. Unfortunately, Lingerin had reentered the room and doused him with a clear liquid that was definitely not water.

Five minutes, several burns, and a bucket of snow later, Slon was eating his ham as he wondered just what sort of woman would laugh at a man when he’s on fire.

She might be trouble for him after all.


	53. Orihara Izaya/Kishitani Shinra (au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Colgate AU...

Molarhara Toothzaya had always been like everyone else. He’d always looked the same, and had always managed to fit in. Despite his popularity, he was never really thought of, though the other brushes at school would include him whenever they noticed him standing alone.

He watched them, a pleasant and almost kind smile on his bristles, never getting too close. It was easier to observe the medicine cabinet when you weren’t inside of it, after all.

All of that changed though, the day he met Flossitani Shincisors.

Shincisors always seemed to be excited, making Toothzaya wonder how long lasting his battery was. He’d vibrate with happiness, unaware or uncaring of the looks he’d get for being different.

And why should he care? According to his ramblings, he was positively smitten with either a capped tooth or a set of braces (from how he spoke of her, it was hard to tell), and couldn’t possibly spend a single second concerning himself with othr toothbrushes.

This had been fine at first, but over the years, Toothzaya found that he was becoming resentful. Just once, he wanted Shincisor’s brushes to rotate for him, but that was impossible. It would never happen.

Unless…

One night, after planning for weeks, Toothzaya snuck over to where Shincisor was recharging. He’d already slathered himself with mouth wash, and stood beside the sleeping Shincisors.

He was beautiful, with his bristles reflecting in the cool yellow-green glow of his charging light, but Toothzaya found that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take advantage of the on my Brush he called a friend.

Reluctantly, he started to leave, until something hit his back hard enough to drop him to the floor.

“What are you doing, Molarhara-kun?”

Toothzaya didn’t respond, too ashamed of the minty mouthwash on his body. Shincisors would never let him forget this, or worse, would forget him entirely. If that happened, Toothzaya needed to make sure that he didn’t make things worse by being even more pathetic.

So it came as a surprise when he felt Shincisor vibrating on top of him.

“..!”

Unable to move or even make a sound, Toothzaya let Shincisors vibrate on him. His deep cleaning bristles mixed with Toothzaya’s, but it wasn’t long until the latter sprayed sensitive toothpaste over both of them.

“Don’t tell Cellulity.”


	54. Rocchizaya (sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raijin era Rocchizaya.
> 
> Requested by [karinakamichi](http://karinakamichi.tumblr.com/)

“I should have known it’d take a woman to hurt women.” Chikage mused, shoving his hands into the pockets of his short, black school jacket. He rocked slightly on his feet, a small smile turning the corners of his lips, and hummed quietly to himself.

Across from him, Izaya leaned against the wall of the alley in a matching black jacket. His bright smile did little to hide his offense at the statement, so he feigned confusion and ignorance instead. “I think you might have me confused with someone else, Yankee-san.”

Chikage’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise, and he glanced down at his school uniform. “Do I look like a yankee to you?”

“Maybe it’s just your posture.” Izaya replied innocently. “Do I look like a woman to you?”

“You’re pretty enough to be one.” As conspicuously as possible, Chikage lets his eyes roam from Izaya’s feet, up his calves, and to the top of his thighs. He lingers there for a moment before smirking, like he’s been able to see something that should be hidden, then lets his gaze wander along Izaya’s stomach and chest until their eyes finally meet. “But I was thinking you’re actually smart like one.”

“Eh~?” Izaya hid his genuine confusion with an exaggerated version of it and pushed himself off the wall. His hands remained behind his back, and his head tilted slightly to the left as he appraised Chikage’s face. “You seem to think you know a lot about me, Rokujo-san.”

“See? That’s what I mean.” Chikage laughed a little and shook his head. “I haven’t introduced myself yet, but you’re smart enough to know who I am.”

He took two calculated steps forward, approaching Izaya in the same way he would a feral cat. There was no point in spooking him, and this guy seemed far too unpredictable to underestimate. “I think that most people would say you slipped when you called my name, but that doesn’t seem right.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Nah, I don’t think you would be dumb enough. Which means that you did it deliberately.” With a charming smile, Chikage closed the distance between himself and Izaya, and placed a palm on the wall beside the teen’s head as the tips of his shoes brushed against Izaya’s. “Since you know I’m in a gang as well, you’re either stupid enough to try and manipulate me into thinking you know a lot, or you something to back up that confidence.”

A slight pink tinged the top of Izaya’s cheeks, but that was the only visible sign of how uncomfortable he was. He’d never enjoyed being read by anyone, let alone some stranger, and to be placed in such an intimate position was nothing less than insulting. “You know a lot for someone who doesn’t know my name.”

“Oh, I know you’re name! Ayaka-san told me. She said:” Chikage leaned in so closely that his lips threatened to brush against Izaya’s ear and send a chill racing down his spine. “” _I’m sorry I’m breaking up with you, Rocchi. But Izaya-san won’t look my way if I’m dating you_.” She cried when I asked if you’d taken an interest in her, and said she needed to better herself first. Can you believe it?”

“So you’re here for revenge?”

“Revenge?” Chikage laughed as though he’d been genuinely caught off guard and pulled his face away from Izaya’s ear. He moved it so that he could face him more directly, his lips only an inch or so away from Izaya’s as one of his feet squeezed between the pair in front of him. With Izaya’s thighs squeezing his knee, he smirked happily and lowered his voice. “No, she just made me curious. At first I wanted to see if what all the fuss was about, but given you’re as smart as a woman…”

“…”

“I think it’s only fair I treat you like one.”


	55. Egor/Akabayashi (5)

“…”

“…”

“…”

“I may have miscalculated.”

“…”

“…”

“How do you miscalculate your own height?”

“…”

“…”

“…your height.”

“What? Nothin’ wrong with my height.”

“You’re very small.”

“You’re a giant.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“And you’re blocking all the water.”

Playfully (but seriously, because Egor was in the damn way), Akabayashi pushed at Egor’s shoulder. It moved easily until it didn’t, slapping against the tiles of the too-small shower after moving barely an inch. It was almost irritating, really, because Akabayashi damn well _knew_ that Egor could move more if he really wanted to.

But he wasn’t, because keeping his head in the middle of the shower stream was what he _wanted_.

“C’mon, kid. I’m getting cold.”

“I’m not a kid. We’re almost the same age.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“…but you do look cold.”

“Oi!” Folding his arms across his chest, Akabayashi smiled strangely up at Egor. “Stop looking and move!”

“If I move, I’ll be cold.”

“You’re from Russia, you should be used to it.”

“Please don’t stereotype me based on my country of origin.”

“…”

Really, it would have been easier to just leave the shower altogether. There was no use in staying in the tiny cubicle if Egor was refusing to share, but Akabayashi honestly didn’t want to leave. It would be defeat (maybe?), and he couldn’t let Egor win (win? Since when did showering become such a heated competition?).

Instead, Akabayashi pulled one arm away from his chest and reached it toward the shower head in the hopes that he could redirect the flow. His fingers brushed against it easily, and though he’d almost caught it, it was soon moving away from his grasp.

“That’s cheating.”

“What’s cheating?”

“Don’t move the shower head.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, I can see you moving it.”

“You are mistaken.”

“…”

“…”

Did Egor want him to jump for it? Akabayashi was a grown man, well past the age where such a thing could ever be considered cute, and wasn’t about to give in. Why was he acting like such a punk, anyway?

“You still look cold.”

“…”

“Are you cold?”

“…”

“Akabayashi.”

“…”

“Miz-.”

“I’m cold, so give me the damn water.” In another situation, Akabayashi might have been able to stave off the annoyance (and it was annoyance, and nothing similar to pouting) and find humour in the situation, but damn it, he was cold. It was still early, with the sun yet to rise, and Egor had mercilessly dragged him out of bed and into the shower. Sure, it was a cute idea, and Akabayashi had nothing against being naked with Egor, but this was practically cruel.

“…” Egor moved the shower head so that the water splashed up against the wall.

“…” Akabayashi shoved Egor again, only to get the same result as before. Out of options (and patience), he decided to do what he was sure Egor wanted, and shifted his stance. The floor was wet, but since the cubicle was so small, it wouldn’t be _that_ bad if he were to slip.

On the silent count of three, Akabayashi bent his knees and launched himself a few inches into the air, his hand reaching out for the shower head.

Only to miss it when Egor brushed it higher.

“Oi-”

“You’ll slip.” Egor’s arms wrapped around Akabayashi’s waist as best they could (which required him to both lean forward and bend his knees awkwardly, until it looked as though he were channelling a koala clinging to a branch), and brought him closer. The water splashed against the wall, warming neither of them, but Akabayashi’s skin grew hotter regardless.

“If this is all you wanted, you could’ve asked.”

“…”

“I can’t believe you’re jealous of hot water.”


	56. Namie/Earthworm (SFW)

“Don’t you hate it?”

Namie considered the fingers linked between hers with a frown. Her hand felt warm and damp, and she couldn’t seem to remember whether her hands were always this moist. It seemed like the sort of thing she’d notice if it had ever been an issue in the past, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall even thinking about her hands.

As if to contrast the warmth she was exuding, Earthworm’s felt fresh. Her palm was cool, but her fingers only became colder as Namie brushed her own by them, taking note of the chilled tips. Was Earthworm anemic? Did she need iron supplements? Come to think of it, Namie couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten- not that she cared enough to remember. Earthworm was an adult, and it wasn’t up to Namie to be her keeper. If she couldn’t do something as simple as taking a supplement, then it wasn’t for Namie to worry about.

“It doesn’t matter if I do, as long as it affects That Man.” Loosening her grip on Earthworm’s hand, Namie uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “He isn’t expecting it.”

With a sigh that sounded dangerously close to a giggle, Earthworm leaned herself back on the couch and squeezed Namie’s hand just a little. “If he drops dead, I’ll kiss you.”

“If you kiss me, I’ll sew your lips together.”

“If you do that, I’ll fall in love!”

Earthworm squeezed at Namie’s hand again, but stopped when Namie’s thumb dragged along the side of her index finger. Though she didn’t move her head toward Namie, she peered at her from the corner of her eye questioningly.

“Whatever your thinking- stop it.”

Mimizu’s smile faltered, and was soon replaced by something managing to resemble both a smirk and a pout. “Miss Secretary, just what is it you think I’m thinking? Why don’t you tell me all about it, and I’ll fill in any _gaps_.”

Namie huffed in response, not wanting to dignify the offer with any more of a reply. Despite this, neither released the other’s hand, nor did they decide to move further away from each other on the couch. Instead, they simply sat and waited for Izaya to return so that they could surprise him yet again with their false relationship.

Of course, both Namie and Mimizu knew that Izaya wouldn’t be returning that evening, though neither knew that the other was aware of that. Even if they were to realise that the other knew, well, then they’d simply put this down to practice.

It wasn’t as if they were enjoying this.


	57. Namie/Vorona (sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for apetunias <3

    “ _What_?”

    “Understood. Further clarification is required. I will attempt to explain in simpler terms.” It was possible, Vorona thought, Namie had misunderstood her request. While her Japanese was excellent, there was always the chance things became lost in translation. There could be no other reason for her reaction. “I do not believe you require assistance. My request to hold your hand is based on the desire to strengthen the intimacy between two persons engaged in a romantic relationship.”

    “What?”

    “Was my explanation not sufficient?” It seemed as though it should be. Was Namie mocking her? “I am unsure how to explain further without the use of colourful pencils.”

    That seemed to snap Namie out of whatever loop she’d fallen into.

    She pulled the sheets around her body further—inadvertantly pulling them from Vorona as she did—and pulled what others (but not Vorona) might describe as a rather unattractive face. “I know what hand holding is. I’m asking why you’d ask to hold—why you think I’d—what?”

    “I wish to strengthe—”

    “There’s no romantic relationship here to strengthen.” Namie quickly snapped.

    Well, that didn’t seem right to Vorona at all, and she tilted her head slightly in confusion.

    “You have cooked my meals.”

    “You insisted.”

    “You share _my_ bed.”

    “This is my bed.”

    “We share our bed.”

    Namie didn’t seem to like Vorona’s answers, though there was still no reason why she shouldn’t. Hadn’t Vorona been seduced by her? Or had Vorona been the seductress? She’d never thought of herself as a sexual being, but perhaps she’d done it without trying. Then again, she couldn’t be faulted for that. Wasn’t it Namie who had the imaginative insults and the beautiful hair? The one with the strength to endure _hours_ in Orihara’s presence?

    No, it wasn’t Vorona’s fault.

    She reached out her hand and curled the ends of Namie’s hair around her fingertips. There was nothing remarkable about Namie’s diet, nor did her bathroom hold any specialised hair products. Namie’s hair was shiny and smooth simply because it was Namie’s. Vorona was so focused on the feel of it between her fingers, she barely noticed the shiver roaming over Namie’s skin.

    “What are you doing?”

    “I am doing nothing unusual.” Her fingers slipped through Namie’s hair and moved to her shoulder, where they lightly traced shapes onto her skin. “I am behaving as I always behave.”

    “I don’t like you.” Namie sounded more desperate now; she always sounded desperate when Vorona touched her, like she was trying to convince herself of something. “You’re disgusting.”

    “You’re beautiful.” It was easy to say because it was true. Vorona liked facts and truths, and didn’t feel embarrassed in the least for stating this over and over. “You have goosebumps.”

    “I do not.”

    “Are you nervous?” Finally, Vorona looked up and away from her fingers, which were now exploring Namie’s collarbone. “Your face is red.”

    Somehow, Namie’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red. Her body tensed, then relaxed, allowing the sheet to slip slightly down her body. “It isn’t.”

    “Namie-san,” Vorona moved closer, until their sides were pressed together, “you are acting…cute.”

    Namie had definitely been the seductress.

    “Shut up and go away.” Namie turned as Vorona’s fingers grazed over her neck and slipped around to trail down her spine. She pushed herself against Vorona, her voice so soft it was scarcely above a whisper. “Get out.”

    “Negative. I refuse. My presence beside you is non-negotiable.” Vorona’s hand slipped further down Namie’s spine and settled on her lower back. “I wish to hold your hand.”

    “That isn’t my hand!” Despite the exclamation, Namie didn’t move away. Instead, she fisted the sheets around her and let her forehead fall to Vorona’s shoulder. “Stop groping me!”

    “I refute this claim: My palm is neither touching you clumsily, nor without your consent.” To make her point, Vorona applied slightly more pressure to the base of Namie’s spine with one hand, while the other moved to rest on her thigh. “I am fondling you.”

    “That’s not any better!”

    “Caressing?”

    “Disgusting!” With something akin to a growl, Namie pushed herself off the bed and onto Vorona’s lap. Their faces were close, noses barely touching, and she let her hands fall to her side.“Is this what you want? Will this shut you up? If I let you do whatever _perverted things_ you want?”

    Instinctively, Vorona wrapped one arm around Namie’s waist as she formulated her response. They’d already spent close to an hour exploring each others bodies, and while the offer was tempting, she didn’t feel as though it would be enjoyable for Namie unless they hydrated first. Sweat and other fluids surely needed to be replenished before they started up again.

    “Negative.” Vorona tightened her hold on Namie’s waist in case the answer caused her to leave. After a moment of indecision and thought, she swallowed her nerves and linked her fingers with Namie’s on the bed. “I request hand holding.”

    Again, Namie’s face pinkened and her eyes widened in an almost comical fashion. Her lips—still swollen from earlier, and far too distracting for Vorona’s liking—moved soundlessly, before she collapsed bodily on Vorona.

    “I don’t like you.” She mumbled into Vorona’s neck as her free hand gripped her bicep. “Get out.”

    Vorona simply shook her head, then leant in to smell her hair. She felt warm and sweet, as though she finally had something to protect. She wasn’t going anywhere; not when she finally had the intimacy she’d asked for.


End file.
